
Book ' '. 




ERSONS, PLACES AND 
IDEAS : MISCELLANEOUS 
ESSAYS. 



BY B. O. FLOWER, AUTHOR OF 
"CIVILIZATION'S INFERNO," "THE 
NEW TIME," AND "GERALD MASSEY." 



WITH OVER THIRTY FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. 



THE ARENA PUBLISHING 
COMPANY, COPLEY SQUARE, 
BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A. 



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"3". Lj-^bn. 



to tRe memory 
of 

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Ine o^ tfie ^our^iler<£) o^ Ufie eKrena 

Pu6fi«a)^ing (^ompan^, ar^i. it<«) ^i(*<s)t 

^reit>'\^erL'C. sh. man coBo(^e no6fe 

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in aeeil or ili<«)ti*e/l>(t) coa<i> onf^ 

equafPeil 6lj fil*^) FiSeraPit^ 

to tR© eau<«)e o^ («)cieace, 

progt*eit)<£), anil fiSecaP 

tftougfit. 



^ablc of Contents, 



Chapteu. Page. 

I. Deuioatiox 

II. ClIAKLES DAKWIN 7 

III.,, An Idealistic DiiEAMER Who Sings IN i^E Minor Key . 19 

IV. Mask or Mirror . .27 

V. [^ A Poet of the People . . 37 

VI. I. After Sixty Years . -jO 

VII. Ciiester-on-tiip>Dee . ''O 

VIII. Strolls Beyond the Walls of Chestek . . ^() 

IX. Winter Days in Florida ....... 106 

X. ,' Religious Thought in Colonial Days . . , l-'l 

XI. - Some Social Ideals Held by Victor Hugo . . . 1-^2 

XII. Postering the Savage in the Young .... 1-^8 

XIII. Hypnotism AND its Relation TO Psychical Research . l''>9 

XIV. Crucial Moments in National Life .... 178 

XV. Room for the Soul of Man 181 

XVI. The August Present 184 



^ 



flllufitrationcn 



CiiARLEf=i Darwix, FuU-Pai^e Portrait With Autograph . 

Louise Chaxdlek Movlton, Full-Page Portrait With Autograph 

Small poktkait of Mk. IIearx and thrke scenes fkom Siioke- 

ACRES 

James G. Claiik, Full-Page Portrait With Autograph 
Bishop Lloyd's House, Chester .... 
A PiOMAx Altar found in Excavation ix Chester 

The Old Staxley Palace 

A VIEW of Watergate Tower axd the City Walls 

Phcenix Tower from the Canal 

A Street ix Chester .... 

God's Providence House . 

Ruixs of the Church of St. John 

The Cathedral of Chester 

Old Cloister belonging to toe Cathedrai, of Chester 

The Grosvenor Biiidge ove^HMMBpee 

Chester from the Dee . r^ 

Eaton H^J|, The Country Seat Of The Duke Of Westminster 

Grand Saloon in Eaton Hall 

Library in Eaton Hall 

Portrait of Gladstone and his Granddaughter 

Hawarden, The Home Of W. E. Gladstone 

Winter Scenes on an Lsland in the Halifax PavER . 

The ToMOKA PavER .... ■^:,.\\ ■ 

A View of the Halifax-Piver from ri|!'LiFAx Peninsula oppo 

SITE Daytona .... 



M 



2() 
3(5 
66 
()6 
67 
()S 
70 
72 
73 
74 
75 
76 
78 
88 
90 
92 
94 
97 
99 
107 
108 

110 



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miustrations. 

Page. 
ToMOKA Cabin ON THE Bank OF THE ToMOKA . . . .Ill 

Winter Scene on the Halifax Beach . . . . . .112 

Winter Bathing on East Coast of Florida 113 

Moonlight on the Halifax Beach 114 

Clam Dig(;ing and Bathing on the Halifax Beach in Feb- 
ruary 115 

A Storm ON THE Ocean 116 

Eivek Eoad from Daytona TO Holly Hill ..... lis 

Beach Street, Daytona, Florida 120 

Volusia Avenue, Daytona, Florida , 121 

Another Scene on Beach Street, Day-tona . . . = 122 

RiDGEWooD Avenue, Day^tona, Florida . . . . .124 

Live Oak and Palmetto on the River Banks at Daytona . 12.i 

The Palmetto in Blossom 126 

The Orange Blossom 3?8 

Magnolia Blossoms 129 

Victor Hugo, Full-Page Portrait With Autograph .... 143 




CL ^. 



ayruy\^ 



Xife of Charles H)arwtn, 



I. 

The name of Charles Darwin will ever be pre-eminent among 
the immortal coterie of commanding thinkers who have made 
the nineteenth century the most notable epoch in the history of 
scientific thought and attainment. The influence of his careful 
and patient research and the logical deductions which he gave 
mankind in his masterly volumes have changed, to a great 
extent, the current of a world's thought. Not that Darwin 
alone accomplished this, for never was king surrounded by more 
loyal knights than Avas this gi-eat man environed by giant think- 
ers who nobly fought for the thought he sought to establish, 
against the combined opposition of established religious and 
scholastic conservatism. But the important fact must not be 
overlooked that had it not been for the years of patient observa- 
tion and research, which enabled Mr. Darwin tangibly to demon- 
strate the truth of many imi)ortant contested questions, the 
splendid philosophical presentations of Spencer, the important 
labors of Dr. Alfred Kussel Wallace, and other scarcely less 
vigorous thinkers would have only been sufficient to arouse a 
fierce war, which even a century miglit not have settled, in 
favor of the bold innovators. Hence Mr. Darwin will ever stand 
as the great apostle of evolutionary thought, vaguely fore- 
shadoweil by Buffon, St. Ililaire, and Erasmus Darwin, and 
boldly outlined by Lamarck. Around his head the storm of con- 
servatism, intolerance, and religious bigotry played. He was 
sneeringly styled the "monkey man," and his thouglitful observa- 
tions and deductions, which were the results of more than thirtv 
years of patient research, were wantonly caricatured and dis"- 
torted by men who above all others should have demanded for 
them a frank and candid hearing. It is eminently proper, there- 
fore, that by common consent Charles Darwin be assigned the 
loftiest niche in the temi)le of evolutionary thought. And yet 
we must never forget that he was essentially a demonstrator; "his 
mind ever dwelt upon the special — the minute. The broad, 
philosophical vision of Herbert Spencer was absent in Darwin ; 
and in the nature of the case he could not see, much less develop, 
the full ethical significance of the truth of which he is the most 

7 



8 persons, places ant) iFDeas. 

illustrious prophet. There is another phase of Darwin's life 
which renders it peculiarly interesting and helpful. In the man 
we find one of the noisiest types of nineteenth-century life. 
Darwin the scientist is imposing. Darwin the man is inspiring. 
The former stimulates the intellect ; the latter enriches, by its 
luminous example, the soul life of all who patiently follow tlie 
great savant through the long years of invalidism, in which his 
sweet spirit ever shone resplendent, and his love for truth Avas 
an over-mastering passion, 

II. 

In the life of Charles Darwin we find a striking illustration of 
the gradual unfolding or evolution of character. In boyhood he 
was neither l)right nor over-burdened with virtue ; in his early 
life we search in vain for any of those luminous scintillations of 
genius which have characterized the youth of many illustrious 
persons. Indeed, if we are to rely on the charmingly frank auto- 
biography written for his children, he Avas a very commonplace 
boy, generally considered dull, and more or less given to lying, 
not with a vicious intent, but owing to a youthful desire to create 
a sensation. 

Charles Darwin was not a ])erson wlio would have shone in 
any Avalk of life ; indeed, if his father had not been a man of 
means, and the son had felt compelled to qualify himself for the 
profession of a physician, as Avas at first contem]dated, or if he 
had entered the ministry of the Church of England, for Avhich 
he Avas afterAvard partially qualified, he would, in all probability, 
have passed liis life in some obscure nook unknown to fame, for 
be Avas singularly free from ambition. 

It Avas his great quenchless love for scientific pursuits, largely 
inherited from his grandfather, Avhose latent fires Professor Hens- 
low fanned into flames, and later his great desire to aid in solving 
the mystery of life, Avhich haunted his every step, urging him 
ouAvard Avith irresistible sway. Indeed, we may say Charles Dar- 
win liecame famous in spite of himself. 

Of his boyhood, he observes, in an abandon of candor: — 

I believe that I was considered by all my masters and by my father 
as a very ordinary boy, rather below the common standard in intellect. 
To my deep mortification, my father once said to me: "You care for 
notliing but shooting, dogs, and rat-catcliing, and you Avill be a disgrace 
to yourself and all your family." But my father, who Avas the kindest 
man I ever knew, and Avhose memory I love with all my heart, must 
have been angry and somewhat unjust when he used such words. 

Again he continues : — 

One little event has fixed itself very firmly in my mind, and I hope 
that it has done so from my conscience having been afterwards sorely 



%itc of Cbarles Barwin. 9 

troubled by it. I told another little boy [I believe it was Leighton, who 
afterwards became a well-known licheuolopst and botanist], that I could 
Ijroduce variously colored polyanthuses and primroses by watering them 
with certain colored fluids, which was, of course, a monstrous fable, 
and had never been tried by me. I may here also confess that as a little 
boy I was much given to inventing deliberate falsehoods, and this always 
was done for the sake of causing excitement. For instance, I once 
gathered much valuable fruit from my father's trees and hid it in the 
shrubbery, and then ran in breathless haste to spread the news that I had 
discovered a hoard of stolen fruit. I must have been a very simple little 
fellow when I first went to the school. A boy of the name of Garnett 
took me into a cake shop one day, and bought some cakes for which he 
did not pay, as the shopman trusted him. When we came out I asked him 
why he did not pay for them, and he instantly answered, " Why, do you 
not know that my uncls left a great sum of money to the town on condi- 
tion that every tradgsman should give whatever was wanted without 
payment to any ov-d who wore his old hat and moved [it] in a particular 
manner?" and ho then showed me how it was moved. He then went 
into another shop where he was trusted, and asked for some small article, 
moving his hat m the proper manner, and of course obtained it without 
payment. When we came out he said, " Now if you like to go by yourself 
into that cake shop, I wilLlend you my hat, and you can get whatever you 
like if you move the hat on your head properly." I gladly accepted the 
generous offer, and went in and asked for some cakes, moved the old hat, 
and was walking out of the shop when the shopman made a rush at me. 
So I dropped the cakes and ran for dear life, and was astonished by 
being greeted with shouts of laughter by my false friend Garnett. 

These frank ol)servations are valuable as indicating that in 
the youth we see little upon which we might reasonably predicate 
a brilliant future. He possessed, ho^vever, strong and diversified 
taste, " much zeal for whatever interested him, and a keen pleas- 
ure in understanding any complex subject or thing." * But while 
painstaking and persevering along lines of research which weie 
attractive, he was ill-disposed to master any subject for which 
he had no taste. Thus he declares that his early schooling, Avhich 
extended over a period of seven years, " was simply a blank," 
owing to the fact that the curriculum was strictly classical, and 
for such study Darwin had neither aptitude nor taste. 

When fifteen years old, his father sent him to Edinburgh, as it 
had been determined that he should become a physician. Of his 
experience here he says : — 

The instruction at Edinburgh was altogether by lectures, and these 
were intolei-ably dull, with the exception of those on Chemistry by 
Hope. Dr. Duncan's lectures on Materia Medica at eight o'clock on a. 

winter's morning are something fenrful to remember. Dr. made 

his lectures on human anatomy as dull as he was himself, and tlie sub- 
ject disgusted me. . . . During my second year at Edinburgh I at- 
tended 's lectures on Geology and Zoology, but they were incred- 
ibly dull. The sole effect they produced on me was the determination 
never as long as I lived to read a book on Geology, or in any way to 
study the science. 

* " Life and Letters of Charles Darwin," Vol. I., page 30. 



10 persons, places an^ H^eas. 

After spending two sessions in Edinburgh, his father, who had 
learned that his son did not intend to practice medicine, deter- 
mined to have him enter the clergy. Accordingly he was sent 
to Cambridge, where he passed three years ; and owing to lax 
examinations and some extra studying immediately before exam- 
ination, he succeeded in passing his examinations, being tenth in 
the list. Of his school days at Cambridge, he writes : — 

During the three years which I spent at Cambridge my time was 
wasted, as far as the academical studies were concerned, as completely 
as at Edinburgh and at school. I attempted mathematics, and even 
went during the summer of 182S with a private tutor [a very dull man] 
to Barmouth, but I got on very slowly. The work was repugnant 
to me, chiefly from my not being able to see any meaning in the early 
steps in algebra. With respect to classics, I did nothing except attend a 
few compulsory college lectures, and the attendance was almost nomi- 
nal. In my second year 1 had to work for a month or two to pass the 
Little-Go, which I did easily. Again, in my last year I worked with 
some earnestness for my final degree of B. A., and brushed up my 
classics, together with a little Algebra and Euclid. In order to pass the 
B. A. examination, it was also necessary to get up " Paley's Evidences of 
Christianity" and his "Moral Philosophy." This was done in a thor- 
ough manner, and I am convinced that I could have written out the whole 
of the '■'■ Evidences'''' loith perfect correctness, but not of course in the 
clear language of Paley. The logic of this book and, as I may add, of 
his "Natural Theology," gave me much delight. I did not at that time 
trouble myself about Paley's jJremises, and, taking these on trust, I was 
charmed and convinced by the long line of argumentation. 

In the light of the above observations of Mr. Darwin, coupled 
with his statement that he had previously mastered "Pearson on 
the Creeds" and other standard theological works, and that he 
looked forward with keen delight to the prospect of being a 
clergyman, it is interesting to remember that within a few brief 
years he was destined to call forth, as did no other individual of 
his generation, an avalanche of denunciation, misrepresentation, 
and bitter invective from the Avorld of Christian thought. What 
would have been his amazement if, while he was revelling in 
"Paley's Evidences," the curtain of futurity had parted before 
him, revealing the Charles Darwin of thirty years later, then 
the storm-centve of a world's thought, with the lightning of 
clerical wrath playing about him and the thunders of theological 
and conservative thought crashing above his head. Darwin, the 
theological student, gave small hint of holding within the woof 
and web of his brain the thought-germs which were destined to 
play so important a part in changing the current of a world's 
thought; and had it not been for a few seemingly trivial happen- 
ings and events which occurred about this time, the world would 
probably know even less of Charles Darwin to-day than it does 
of his obscure brother. But for his meeting with Professor 
Henslow, who seemed drawn with a strange fascination to the 



%\tc of Cbarles 2)arvvin. ii 

young student ; but for Darwin chancing to read Humboldt's 
" Personal Narrative," which stirred his whole nature and fired 
him with an intense longing to contribute in a small way to the 
noble structure of natural science ; and, lastly, had not the cap- 
tain of the Beagle desired to take with him a competent natural- 
ist during his voyage around the world, it is more than probable 
that the great philosopher would have been simi)ly the IJev. 
Charles Darwin, otticiating at some retired parish. Is it chance 
or destiny which so often, in the most unexpected and seemingly 
trivial circumstance, alters the course of a life, which in turn 
changes the current of a world's thought? The i/s of history 
and biography are a theme interesting and perplexing. Here 
is a boy, devoid of all ambition for renown, accounted dull, 
plodding through college, nearing the day when he is to enter 
the clergy; but his association with a great student of natural 
science, who is also an enthusiast, results in firing in the youth 
the hereditary love of physical science inherited from his 
grandfather. Humboldt's work adds greatly to the already 
kindled flame. Next, the unex])ected opening for him to go as 
naturalist on the Beagle, and finally tlie overcoming of his 
father's stubborn opposition to this journey by Charles Darwin's 
uncle, Josiah Wedgwood, These are the principal links in the 
chain of circumstances which changed the theological student 
into the foremost naturalist of our century, and through Dar- 
win's observations and demonstrations changed, in an almost 
incredibly short time, the scientific thought of the world, requir- 
ing a readjustment of theology and giving to life and law a 
vaster and nobler significance than they had hitherto held in the 
human mind. "Were these links, the absence of any one of which 
might have been fatal, the result of blind chance or a law-ordered 
destiny ? 

in. 

The five years* cruise of the Beagle, the real university course 
of Darwin, the physical scientist, was so rich in information that 
from the garnered truths, in the course of time, a world was to 
be moved, nay more, the thought of ages was destined, largely 
through the accretions of knowledge thus gained, to be revolu- 
tionized. We have seen from his own utterances how unsat- 
isfactory was his scholastic training. Xoav, however, he stepped 
into the broad expanse of a new Avorld. Here, for the first time, 
the hunger of his soul experienced satisfaction. No longer com- 
pelled to feed upon the husks of classical thought, but untram- 
melled imder the great blue dome, with zone- wide class room in 
which to master Nature's profoundest truths, Charles Darwin, the 
dunce, became an intellectual Titan. True, his illustrious prede- 



12 persons, places ant) H^eas. 

cessors had blazed the way with speculative tliought before hira, 
and this, to a mind like the young naturalist's, was of inestimable 
value ; indeed, had not the luminous, speculative thought of St. 
Hilaire, Erasmus Darwin, and Lamarck shone as a pillar of fire 
before liim, it is doubtful whether Darwin would have made any 
distinctively epoch-marking contributions to science, because the 
younger naturalist was a demonstrator rather than a discoverer. 
He lielonged to that class whose intellect always require a clue ; 
with that, through profound research and unflagging perseverance, 
they demonstrate great truths. Besides this mental peculiarity, 
his extreme lack of confidence in himself or the proper value of 
his own works would have prevented his advancing his discoveries 
in any other than a tentative or hesitating manner, had he felt 
that he was announcing a theory not only contrary to the world- 
accepted thought, but one undreamed of liy human minds before 
him. 

In Brazil, Darwin for the first time beheld the teeming, strug- 
gling, self-strangling life of the tropics. Here he beheld sugges- 
tions of that life which through unknown ages marked our globe 
from pole to pole. Next passed before him in slowly moving 
panorama the treeless pampas of South America; Patagonia, 
with its well-nigh Arctic zone, its almost naked savages, and its 
interesting natural features, standing in bold contrast to the 
lately visited luxuriance of Brazil. The Andes of the Western 
coast were next explored, and from their rock-Avrit records im- 
portant truths hitherto unobserved were gleaned. From South 
America the Beagle traversed the Pacific in a serpentine course, 
weighing anchor at the Galapagos Archipelago, the Polynesian 
Islands, New Zealand, and Austraha. At each point Darwin 
made discoveries of moment, either in geology, zoology, or bot- 
any; while as straws carried by a strong current, numerous bio- 
logical facts drifted before his mental vision, tending to confirm 
the great theory which was already taking possession of his mind. 
In Australia, Darwin personally examined a fragment of an ancient 
world; here is found antiquated fauna strangely like the life of 
Europe ages ago. At the Keeling Island, our scientific Columbus 
made further discoveries and observations of the coral reefs, 
destined to produce an important impression on the thought of 
his age. 

From Australia, the Beagle slowly moved homeward, making 
many stops of more or less importance to Darwin, among which 
were Mauritius, St. Helena, and the Azores. On Oct. 2, 1836, 
the weather-beaten vessel reached England, having circumnavi- 
gated the globe, although she had consumed five instead of two 
years of time, as was expected when she sailed. 

Darwin was particularly fitted by nature for the work he was 



Xife ot Cbarles Barwin. is 

called upon to perform. His was the mind of a specialist. The 
most minute objects attracted his attention no less than the 
remains of the mammoth forms which inhabited the globe ages 
before the advent of man. Thus we find him ])atientjfv examin- 
ing through his microscope the dust which the wind blows upon 
the shijj. Though a specialist, his mind ran not in a narrow 
groove. Everything relating to biology of course held for him 
a special charm; geology, zoology, botany, and, indeed, all the 
phases of physical science exerted an irresistiljle fascination over 
his mind. Again, he was probably the most painstaking and per- 
severing working naturalist of our age. While on board the 
Beagle, during the entire voyage, he suffered most distressingly 
from sea-sickness ; yet he daily persevered in his microscopical 
investigation and scientific observations with unremitting perse- 
verance, although he frecpiently found it necessary to leave his 
work for a time and seek a horizontal attitude. 

IV. 

Judging from the large number of voluminous books written 
by the invalid worker of Down,* one would suppose his was a 
wonderfully facile pen ; but such was by no means the case. 
He had poor command of language and was unusually slow and 
clumsy as a writer, frequently having to recast a sentence many 
times before he succeeded in conveying the idea he desired to 
present on paper. In writing of this great hindrance to work he 
observed : " There seems to be a sort of fatality in my mind, 
leading me to j^ut my statements or jDropositions at first in a 
wrong or awkward form." And again, toward the close of life, 
he says : " I have as much difficulty as ever in expressing myself 
clearly and concisely, and this difficulty has caused me a great 
loss of time." What, however, Darwin lacked in ease and fa- 
cility of expression, he made up in perseverance. His work 
haunted him night and day. He realized that more than one 
lifetime would be necessary properly to marshal the multitude 
of vital facts which crowded upon his mental vision. Thus for 
over forty years he toiled with brain and pen, dying in the armor, 
before his magnificent intellect, which had revolutionized a world, 
had become dimmed, and in this particular the oft-repeated desire 
of his life was granted. 

In 1839 Darwin published his "Journal of Researches in Nat- 
ural History and Geology of the Countries Visited during the 
Voyage of H. M. S. Beagle." It scored an immediate success, 
much to the surprise and gratification of its author. He shortly 
after edited the publication of the " Zoology of the Voyage of 

* Darwin, after circnmnavifcatinp; the globe, settled for a time in Loiulon, but after- 
ward removed to a comfortable, room.y home in Down, where he passed the loiitr laborious 
3'ears of his useful life in tireless work. 



14 persons, places ant) H^eas. 

II. M. S. Beagle," a work which comprised live large volumes. 
In 184:2 he published 'The Structiire and Distribution of Coral 
Keefs," a discussion which greatly enhanced his reputation. 
In rapid succession appeared other valuable scientific trea- 
tises ; indeed, the amount of literary work accomjjlished by Mr. 
Darwin is amazing when it is remembered that his entire literary 
career was one long night of painful invalidism, apart from whith 
wi'iting was always slow and laborious work. In 1859 he electri- 
fied the scientific world by bringing out his great masterwork, 
"The Origin of Species." It was a bugle call. Instantaneously 
the old and new thought among scientists were marshalled under 
opposing banners, and one of the most fierce and decisive battles 
known in the histoiy of literature was fought. Fortunately for 
Darwin, however, the age had produced a race of giants, many 
of whom, like the author of "The Origin of Species," had caught 
inspiration from Lamarck. These at once arranged themselves 
around Mr. Darwin. The magnificent brain of Herbert Spencer 
had before this given the world the luminous truths from the 
realm of the speculative philosophy, while so great a working 
naturalist as Wallace reinforced Darwin with the rich treasures 
he had gathered during years of jiatient study under the torrid 
sun of the Malay Arclii2)elago. The Church, as was perfectly 
natural, ranged herself upon the side of conservatism, and as- 
sailed this new tliought with a bitterness of spirit which indi- 
cated that she had not left the Dark Ages so far behind her that 
the spirit which made them one long night of horrors had entirely 
disappeared. As a rule, the scientific criticism was dignified, and 
though often bitter, the writers Avere usually as fair as could be 
expected. The reviewers, hoAvever, who possessed little or no 
knowledge of jihysical science, often assailed they knew not 
what, being inspii-ed by fanatical zeal resulting from a wide- 
spread fear that the new thought would destroy religion. These 
critics frequently grossly misrepresented, mercilessly ridiculed, 
and childishly caricatured the great patient disciple of nature, 
whose sole purpose in life was to add to man's heritage of truth. 
It would be amusing, if it were not pathetic, to note how society 
is ever overtaken with the ague of fear when a new truth dawns 
on the world. To conservatism all innovations are unwelcome 
intrusions; and usually, conventional thought seeks, in whatever 
way the spirit of the age approves, to destroy the influence of the 
promoters of progress. It may be the stake, as in the case of 
Bruno ; it may be the prison, as was the case in Galileo's time. 
It may be social ostracism, as has characterized the treatment of 
hundreds of the chosen spirits of a later day. In Darwin's 
case, the Church sought to destroy his influence by fierce in- 
vectives, biting sarcasm and wholesale ridicule. Yet it must be 



Xite of Cbarles H>arwin. i5 

remembered that the thought was so bold and to the masses so 
new, that it seemed to strike a deadly blow at the root of the 
tree of revelation. The Chm-ch felt that if Darwin succeeded, 
religion must fall. Thus, instead of inquiring whether or not the 
theory advanced was true, the clergy felt called upon to proceed 
after the manner of the Irish community, which inquired into 
the facts relating to the prisoner's guilt after they had hanged 
the accused. To all this calumny and misrepresentation, Charles 
Darwin, be it said to his honor, never wasted a ])recious moment 
in useless controversy. Grandly he stood,a colossus, enveloped 
by the abuse of ignorance and l)igotry, serene in the conviction 
that he held the thread of a great truth which mankind must 
in tlie fulness of time accept. The more men misrepresented 
and abused, the harder he worked to prove his position by incon- 
trovertible facts and practical demonstrations. "The Origin of 
Species "was an epoch-marking book. During the intervening 
years between its publication in 1859 and the publication of his 
other masterpiece, "The Descent of Man," in 1871, Mr, Darwin 
made a number of important contributions to scientific literature. 
"The Descent of Man," however, to a certain extent, aronsed 
anew the battle of 1859. During these years the theory of 
evolution had rapidly grown in favor among tlioughtful people; 
in 1871 it was clearly evident that the trend of the best thought 
had set in Darwin ward ; and though from the date of this last 
great work until his death, eleven years later, lie added matei'ially 
to the rich store of facts he had given the world, it is by the 
"Origin" and "Descent" that Darwin Avill live throughout*^ suc- 
ceeding ages. These noble works were the breastworks around 
which the liercest intellectual battle of modern times was fought; 
but the noble, patient and persevering laborer had the splendid 
satisfaction of living to see the breastworks not only remain 
impregnable, but the surrender of a vast majority of competent 
scientists of the day. Two years before Darwin's death. Pro- 
fessor Huxley delivered his "famous address on "The Coming 
Age of the Origin of Species." Of this notable utterance Mr. 
Grant Allen fittingly observes : — 

The time was a favorable one for reviewing the silent and almost 
unobserved progTess of a great revolution. Twenty-one years had come 
and gone since the father of modern scientific evolutionism had launched 
upon the world liis tentative work. In tliose twenty-one years the 
thought of liumanity had been twisted around as upon some* invisible 
pivot, and a new heaven and a new eartli had been presented to tlie eyes 
of seers and thinkers. 

Y. 

Unfortunately, the private life of many of the world's greatest 
thinkers Avill not bear close scrutiny; indeed, the possession of a 
brain capable of marvellous penetration and dazzling intellectual 



16 persons, places auD H^eas. 

iiights has so frequently been marred by the presence of an 
unbalanced condition in other directions, that the very word 
"genius" has come to suggest to some close thinkers the presence 
of insanity. Often men of the largest brains have disphiyed the 
smallest natures. An almost godlike power of intuition, and 
the eagle wings of genius have so frequently been chained to 
jealousy, personal ambition, indifference to others, immorality, 
and an offensive self-worship, that the biographer has touched 
upon the character and home life of his subject with feelings of 
keenest sadness. Not so with the writer who deals with tlie life 
of Charles Darwin, as the power of his wonderful mind was only 
second to tlie charm of his noble personality. He was the most 
unselfish and sincere of men ; a stranger to that personal ambi- 
tion which ruthlessly treads upon the happiness and tlie merit of 
other.;; devoid of all traces of jealousy; diffident, indeed, as I 
have before obseiwed, his diffidence was so marked that it is not 
improbable that the world would never have received his best 
thought had not Lamarck and other great thinkers blazed the 
Avay befoie him. I know of no life where the supreme mastery 
of self was more strikhighj illustrated than in the career of Dar- 
toin after he entered the portals of manhood. In writing of him 
in after years, Sir James Sullivan, who sailed on the Beagle, 
observed: "I can confidently express my belief that during live 
years on the Beagle he was never known to be out of temper, or 
to say one unkind or harsh word of or to any one." The mar- 
vellous command which Darwin at this early date had over his 
temper will be better appreciated if Ave remember that during 
this voyage the young philosopher Avas constantly seasick. In 
after years this wonderful control of his lower self grcAv more 
and more complete. He had an iron Avill, but it Avas used in sub- 
jusi'ating all that Avas unAvorthy of the noblest manhood in his 
nature. Darwin loved his home i)assionately, and naught but 
thirst for knoAvledge could have driven him forth on his long, 
perilous voyage. In his letters Ave catch many delightful 
glimpses of this strong, abiding home love, as, for example, the 
folloAving : — 

It is too delightful to think that I shall see the leaves fall and hear 
the robins sing next autumn at Shrewsbury. My feelings are those of 
a schoolboy to the smallest point; I doubt whether ever boy longed for 
his holidays as much as I do to see you all again. I am at present, 
although nearly half the Avorld is betAveen me and home, beginning to 
arrange what 1 shall do, Avhere I shall go during the first Aveek. 

His marriage to his cousin Emma WedgAvood, which occurred 
in January, 1839, proved to be an exceptionally happy union; 
each cherished pure, deep affection for the other, and in each 
other's society they experienced their rarest happiness. Of their 
married life Francis DarAvin savs : — 



%itc ot Cbarles Darwfn. 17 

Of liis married life I caunot speak, save in the briefest manner. In 
his rehitionship towards my mother, his tender and sympathetic nature 
was shown in its most beautiful aspect. In her presence he found his 
happiness, and through her, his life — which mioht have been overshad- 
owed by gloom — became one of content and quiet gladness. 

His deep love for his wife and children was very marked. 
This tireless delver into the mysteries of life had a heart as ten- 
der as the most sensitive maiden. Seldom have I read any lines 
more touchingly beautiful than the following, written when he 
lost his little ten-year-old daughter : — 

From whatever point I look back at her, the main feature in her dis- 
position, which at once rises before me, is her buoyant joyousness, tem- 
pered by two other characteristics, namely, her sensitiveness, which 
might easily have been overlooked by a stranger, and her strong affec- 
tion. It was delightful and cheerful to behold her. Her dear face now 
rises before me, as she used to come running downstairs with a stolen 
pinch of snuff for me, her whole form radiant with the pleasure of giv- 
ing pleasure. 

Even when playing with her cousins, when her joyousness almost 
passed into boisterousness, a single glance of my eye, not of displeasure 
(for I thank God I hardly ever cast one on her), but of want of sym- 
pathy, would for some minutes alter her whole countenance. Her 
whole mind was pure and transparent. One felt one knew her thor- 
oughly and could trust her. . . . She often used exaggerated lan- 
guage, and when I quizzed her by exaggerating what she had said, 
how clearly can I now see the little toss of the head, and exclamation of 
" Oh, papa, what a shame of you ! " In the last short illness her conduct 
in simple truth was angelic. She never once complained; never became 
fretful; was ever considerate of others, and was thankful in the most 
gentle, pathetic manner for everything done for her. When so exhausted 
that she could hardly speak, she praised everything that was given her, 
and said some tea was " beautifully good." Wlien I gave her some 
water she said, " I quite thank you," and these, I believe, w'ere the last 
precious words ever addressed by her dear lips to me. We have lost the 
joy of the household and the solace of our old age. She must have 
known how we loved her. Oh, that she could now know how deeply, 
how tenderly, we do still and shall ever love her dear, joyous face! 
Blessings on her! 

The great secret of Darwin's accomplishing such a vast amount 
of work lay in the two words 2)erseverance and order. He was 
one of the most persistent of investigators. The suffering and 
exhaustion incident to his painful and unremitting illness were 
not considered by this tireless worker sufficient cause for rest. 
Each day his apportioned work was prepared with clocklike regu- 
larity. Languages were exceedingly difficult for him to master ; 
but in order to acquaint himself with the views of some great 
German scientilic thinkers, he mastered the language sufficiently 
to read the works, although he always pronounced the words in 
English. Another illustration of this same spirit of perseverance 
is related in the following Avords by Admiral Stokes, who ac- 
companied Darwin on the Beagle: — 



18 persons, places an^ H^eas. 

We worked together for several years at the same table in the poop 
cabin of the Beagle during her celebrated voyage, he with liis micro- 
scope and myself at the charts. It was often a very lively end of the 
little craft, and distressingly so to my old friend, who suffered greatly 
from sea-sickness. After, perhaps, an hour's work he would say to me: 
" Old fellow, I must take the horizontal for it," that being the best relief 
position from ship motion; a stretch out on one side of the table for 
sometime would enable him to resume his labors for a while, when he 
had again to lie down. 

Such are a few interesting facts concerning this noble life. In 
a brief pen picture of this character it is impossible to touch 
even briefly uj^on the points of excellence in a life so rich iu the 
glory of developed manhood. 

The death of Charles Darwin, which occurred on the 19th of 
April, 1882, cast a gloom over the whole scientific world. The 
boy who in 1831 seemed to possess so little, and of whom his 
father entertained serious apprehension lest he should turn out a 
worthless sporting character, had reached the foremost place in 
the ranks of great scientists, even in the golden age of scientific 
research. He was buried in AVestminster near the tomb of New- 
ton. Among his pall-bearers were his loved co-laborers, Wallace, 
Huxley, Lubbock and Hooker, In closing this sketch I will 
quote a paragraph from Mr. Allen's graphic summary of the 
personal characteristics of the great man who in life was as 
careless of his personal fame as he was devoted to the cause of 
science : — 

Of Darwin's pure and exalted moral nature no Englishman of the 
present generation can trust himself to speak with becoming modera- 
tion. His love of truth, his singleness of heart, his sincerity, his ear- 
nestness, his modesty, his candor, his absolute sinking of self and self- 
ishness — these, indeed, are all conspicuous to every reader on the very 
face of every word he ever printed. Like his works themselves, they 
must long outlive him. But liis sympathetic kindliness, his ready gen- 
erosity, the staunchness of his friendsliip, the width and depth and 
breadth of his affections, the manner in which " he bore with those who 
blamed him unjustly without blaming them in return," these things 
can never so well be known to any otlier generation of men as to the 
three generations who walked the world witli liim. Many even of those 
who did not know him loved him like a father; to many who never saw 
his face tlie hope of winning Charles Darwin's approbation and regard 
was the highest incentive to thought and action. Towards younger men, 
especially, his unremitting kindness was always most notewoi'thy; he 
spoke and wrote to them, not like one of the masters in Israel, but like 
a fellow-worker and seeker after truth, interested in their interests, 
pleased at their successes, sympathetic with their failures, gentle to 
their mistakes. . . . He had the sympathetic receptivity of all truly 
great minds, and when he died thousands upon thousands who had 
never beheld his serene features and his fatherly eyes felt they had lost, 
indeed, a personal friend. Greatness is not always joined with gentle- 
ness; in Charles Darwin's case, by universal consent of all who knew 
him, " an intellect which had no superior " was wedded to " a character 
even nobler than the intellect." 




^ 



.i/^^>t>^^^^^-^ 



/^ 



an •fI^cali£1tic Dreamer Mbo Stnoe In a 
fIDinor 1ke\>. 



Beyond and above the severely utilitarian spirit which 
enters so largely into life to-day, firing millions of brains 
with an all-consuming passion for wealth, rises a far-reaching 
and overmastering thought which is at once speculative 
and progressive. A great unrest has taken possession of the 
thinking world. A profound conviction that the advance 
guard of civilization is fronting epoch-marking struggles is 
daily gaining currency. Especially is this true in America, 
where religious, ethical, educational, economic and political 
problems are being subjected to the most unsparing critical 
investigation. Thus it is by no means strange that idealistic 
writers who flourish in the quiet breathing-spells of nations 
find small favor in a period of unrest and conflict such as 
the present. They are regarded as the allies of convention- 
alism ; and this, to a certain extent, is doubtless true. 

The wonderful growth of sentiment in favor of the robust 
realism of Ibsen, Tolstoi, Howells and Garland is readily 
accounted for when we remember that this new thought has 
allied itself to the moral impulses of the day. It is a part 
of the great protest of the hour. Its waves bear forward 
great vital reforms which are thrilling every nerve and fibre 
of the best progressive tliought of the age. It speaks with 
the authority of truth, albeit its visage is sombre, stern and 
not infrequently repulsive. 

The " New Learning," which in England rose to com- 
manding proportions during the latter part of the fifteenth 
century, and flourished so luxuriantly in the early decades 
of the sixteenth century, quickened the thought of the people, 
and allied itself to reformative impulses, which prepared the 
way for transforming Catholic England into a foremost Prot- 
estant nation. ' So to-day the growing discontent of millions 
of more or less thoughtful persons has found expression in 
the austere utterances of such writers as Tolstoi and Ibsen, 



20 iPersons, places an^ IF^cas. 

— great, prophetic souls, who dare to speak the truth in the 
teeth of conventional intellectual effeminacy, whose very 
weakness and vice are emphasized by its affected morality. 

The new thought has done more than sounded the note 
of reform ; it has unmasked unjust conditions, and revealed 
the parasites preying on the vitals of civilization. It has 
boldly exhibited that moral energy and aggressiveness of 
spirit which the coming conflict demands. It is iconoclastic, 
a voice in the wilderness ; but its brow, if stern, bears the 
majesty of reality. It does not palter with truth. Thus, in 
the very nature of the case, the reformative thought of the 
age is found massing under the banner of realism. In the 
immediate future, therefore, realism will grow in popular 
favor at least until great radical reforms have been ushered in. 

Nevertheless, the human soul is ever haunted by the 
ideal, even in moments of supreme tension, and when every 
fibre is strained for action as stern and uncompromising 
as v/arfare waged in olden times by austere puritanism. 
Dreams of the past and visions of tlie morrow; love, aspira- 
tion, hope, the glory of the vanished past, the ideal of the 
golden future; — these pictures are ever present in the mind ; 
and for them the soul hungers, even after the marchiug 
orders have been given, and the world's advance guard is 
already in the thick of the combat for epoch-marking vic- 
tories such as from time to time show civilization's evolu- 
tionary steps. Thus the idealistic poet, even though regarded 
by the new thought as somewhat of a Philistine, will ever 
hold a seat in the holiest of holies of many human hearts ; 
will ever be loved more or less alike by critic and artisan, 
because the songs sung reflect the longing of man's inner 
nature. 

The writings of our idealists may, as the aggressive realist 
asserts, act as moral anaesthetics at great crises in human 
history, but they also afford a certain rest and food for even 
those whose sympathies and work carry them, with irresistible 
sway, into the ranks of the iconoclastic reformers. To me 
nothing is more restful or satisfying, after a day of stern 
battle, than an hour with the poet or dreamer who sees and 
understands how to picture that which must ever be sacred 
to the human heart. We all more or less resemble caged 
birds who struggle for larger freedom and broader vision, and 
at the present day the beating of wings is particularly active. 



Hu fl^ealistic H)rcamcv. 21 

Recently, after a week of somewhat exhausting work, not 
unmixed with canker-eating, petty aggravations, which in 
themselves aie so insignificant, and yet in the aggregate are 
so fatal to mental equipoise and spiritual harmony ; a week 
in which almost every mail brought letters burdened with 
the stories of struggles, disappointments, and trials, with 
hopes deferred and aspirations unrealized (for an editor is 
much like a clergyman : to him are confided the heartaches 
and the puzzling problems of thousands of his constituency) ; 
a week in which tlie cruel injustice of prevailing economical 
conditions and the heartlessness of grasping wealth had been 
peculiarly strongly impressed by visits to the wretched dens 
of our slums, I sought rest in mj library. Here I chanced 
to take up Mrs. ]\Ioulton's charming volumes of idealistic 
verses,* and from them I derived much of that subtle, 
indefinable pleasure one feels who finds a shady retreat 
in a garden of roses. It is not alone the beauty of the 
flowers, the rich perfume floating on every breeze, or the 
melody of the birds, but rather the sum of nature's prod- 
igality which satisfies the wearied soul. So in these charming 
and unpretentious little fragments of verse, one feels the 
mingled pleasure gained from pure, deep, poetic powers, 
married to finished art, and voicing emotions common to all. 
and held sacred wherever love refines aspiring souls. Few 
writers in this sternly utilitarian age possess in so marked a 
degree the rare power of penetrating the depths of the soul, 
and calling forth half-forgotten dreams as ]\Irs. Moulton. 
Her poems are simple, chaste, and for the most part pitched 
in the minor key. A noble femininity pervades them, giving 
rare delicacy of thouglit and expression. For example, note 
the following exquisite conceit : — 

IF I COULD KEEP HER SO. 

Just a little baby, lying in my arms, — 
Would that I could keep you with your baby charms; 
Helpless, clingiuo: tiugors, downy, golden hair, 
Where the sunshine lingers, caught from otherwhere; 
Blue eyes asking questions, lips that cannot speak, 
Eoly-poly shoulders, dimple in your cheek. 
Dainty little blossom in a world of woe. 
Thus I fain would keep you, for I love you so. 

*" Swallow riifrhts " and" In the Garden of Dreams." Two volumes of poetry by 
Louise Chandler Moulton. Published by Roberts Brothers, Boston. 



22 persons, places an& H^eas. 

Roguish little damsel, scarcely six years old, — 
Feet that never weary, hair of deeper gold; 
Kestless, busy fingers, all the time at play. 
Tongue that never ceases talking all the day ; 
Blue eyes learning wonders of the world about, 
Here you come to tell them, — what an eager shout! 
Winsome little damsel, all the neighbors know; 
Thus I long to keep you, for I love you so. 

Sober little schoolgirl, with your strap of books, 
And such grave imixn-tance in your puzzled looks; 
Solving weary prol)lcms, ])()ring over sums, 
Yet with tooth for sponge cake and for sugar ijlums; 
Heading books of romance in your bed at night, 
Waking up to study with the morning light; 
Anxious as to ribbons, deft to tie a bow, 
Full of contradictions, — I would keep you so. 

Sweet and thoughtful maiden, sitting by my side, 
All the world's before you, and tne world is wide. 
Hearts are there for winning, hearts are there to break. 
Has your own, shy maiden, just begun to wake ? 
Is that rose of dawnmg glowing on your cheek 
Telling us in blushes what you will not speak ? 
Shy and tender maicien, I would fain forego 
All the golden future, just to keep you so. 



Ah! the listening angels saw that she was fair, 

Eipe for rare unfolding in the upper air; 

Xow the rose of dawning turns to lily white. 

And the close-shut eyelids veil the eyes from sight; 

All the past I summon as I kiss her brow, — 

Babe, and child, and maiden, all are with me now. 

Though my heart is breaking, yet God's love I know, — 

Safe among the angels, I would keep her so. 

The intensity of emotion and power of antithesis in 
thought rather tlian words, are strikingly illustrated in 

THE HOUSE or DEATH. 

Not a hand has lifted the latchet 

Since she went out of the door. 
Ko footstep shall cross the threshold, 

Since she can come in no more. 

There is rust upon locks and hinges, 

And mould and blight on the walls, 
And silence faints in the chambers. 

And darkness waits in the halls, — 



Hn 1[&eali5tic Breamer. 23 

Waits, as all things have waited, 

Since she went, that day of spring, 
Borne in her jiallid splendor. 

To dwell in the Conrt of the King, 

With lilies on brow and bosom, 

AVith robes of silken sheen, 
And her wonderful frozen beauty 

The lilies and silk between. 

Red roses she left behind her. 

But they died long, long ago, — 
'Twas the odoi'ous ghost of a blossom 

That seemed through the dusk to glow. 

The garments she left, mock the shadows 

With hints of womanly grace, 
And luT image swims in the mirror 

That was so used to her face. 

The birds make insolent music 

Where the sunshine riots outside; 
And the winds are merry and wanton 

With the summer's pomp and pride. 

But into this desolate mansion, 

Where Love has closed the door, 
Nor sunshine nor summer shall enter 

Since she can come in no more. 

This, to my mind, is one of the strongest poems written by 
Mrs. Moulton. The power of imagination and the depth of 
grief expressed suggest some of the weird verses of Edgar 
Allan Poe. Mrs. Moulton is not a reformer ; the clashing of 
battle, the marshalling of forces, the bugle's call to action, 
appeal not to her. There is in her work little of that fervid 
thought of the moral reformer which leaps forth at white 
heat from so many of Whittier's verses. Her tastes lie in 
the idealistic world, where her earnestness and sincerity are 
almost as marked as her poetical power and artistic skill. 
Possessing a j^rofoundly religious nature, yet imbued with 
the scientific spirit of the age, we find in her a Avonian in per- 
fect touch with the most spiritual element of the new thought. 
The old-time fear does not terrify her, nor can she boast of the 
blind, implicit faith which, strange tc say, lested serenely on 
so many brows during the ages when it was the popular belief 
that millions of God's children were doomed to everlasting 
flames. She loves and questions, and is not this the spirit- 



•24 persons, places an& H^eas. 

ual state of thousands of our best thinkers to-day ? Here is 
a characteristic poem, which illustrates the attitude of our 
author's mind : — 

LOJfG IS THE WAY. 

Long is the way, O Lord ! 

My steps are weak; 
I listen for Thy word, — ■ 

When wilt Thou speak ? 

Must I still wander on 

'Mid noise and strife; 
Or go as Thou hast gone, 

From life to life ? 

Below I give two sonnets taken from a cluster of real 
gems in " Swallow Flights " : — 

FIRST LOVE. 

Time was you heard the music of a sigh, 

And love awoke; and willa it song was born, — 
Song, glad as young bird's carol in the morn, 

And tender as the l)hie and l)rooding sky 

When all the earth feels Spring's warm witchery, 
And with fresh flowers her bosom doth adorn; 
And lovers love, and cannot love forlorn, 

Since love is of the gods, and may not die. 

In after years may come some wildering light, — 
Some sweet delusion, followed for a space, — 

Such titful fireflies flash athwart the night. 
But fade before the shining of that face 

Whieli shines upon you still in death's despite. 

Whose steadfast IJeauty lights till death your days. 

ONE DEE AD. 

jSTo depth, dear love, for thee is too profound; 
There is no farthest height thounnayst not dare^ 
Xor shall thy wings fail in the upper air. 

In funeral robe and wreath my past lies bound; 

]^o old-time voice assails me with its sound 
When thine I hear; no former joy seems fair; 
And now one only thing could bring despair. 

One grief like compassing seas my life surround, 

One only terror in my way be met, 

One great eclipse change my glad day to night. 
One phantom only, turn from red to white 

The lips whereon thy lips have once been set : 

Thou knowest well, dear Love, what that must be. 
The dread of some dark day unshared by thee. 



Bu 1fC)ealistic Breamer. 25 

All of Mrs. Moul ton's poems are pure and healthy m tone, 
although she is more often sad than merry, and a spirit of 
earnest inquiry as to the to-morrow of life pervades many ot 
her best creations, reflecting, I imagine, the heart-hunger of 
her nature, and, indeed, in this respect also the hunger of the 
age. As a specimen of this tendency I quote the following 
from her volume " In a Garden of Dreams." It is a beautiful 
conceit, and represents a thought met with frequently in this 
author's prose as well as poetry. 

IN A GAEDEX. 

Pale in the ijallid moonlight, 

White as the rose on lier breast, 
She stood in the fair rose-garden, 

With her shy young love contest. 

The roses climbed to kiss her, 

The violets, pmple and sweet, 
Breathed their despair in the fragrance 

That bathed her beautiful feet. 

She stood there, statelj' a;id slender, 

(rold hair on her shoulders shed, 
Clothed all in white, like the visions 

When the living l)eli()ld the dead. 

There with her lover beside her. 

With life and with love she thrilled. 
What mattered the world's wide sonow 

To her, with her joy ful tilled? 

Next year, in the fair rose-garden 

He Availed alone and dunil), 
If, perchance, from the silent country. 

The soul of the dead would come 

To comfort the living and loving 

With the ghost of a lost deliglil, 
And thrill into quivering welcome 

The desolate, brooding night. 

Till softly a wind in the distance 

Began to blow and blow; 
The moon bent nearer and nearer, 

And solemn, and sweet, and slow 

Came a wonderful rapture of music 

That turned to her voice at last; 
Then a cold, soft touch on his forehead 

Like the breath of the v/ind that passed; 



26 persons, places an^ H^eas. 

Like the breath of the wind slie touchLHl liiin. 

Thin was tlie voice, and cold, 
And something;, that seemed hke a sha(k)\v, 

Slipped through his feverish hold. 

But the voice had said, " I love you 

With my first love and my last ; " 
Then again that Avonderful music. 

And he knew that her soul had passed. 

It is this anxious thought, this overmastering desire to 
lanoiv what lies beyond the vale, springing from the union of 
a strongly religious nature with a mind trained in the school 
of modern scientific inquiry, which gives a certain sombre 
cast to many of her poems. The interrogation point is often 
felt if not i^cen. This spirit, however, is symptomatic of our 
age, for we are in a period of religious transition. The mists 
which were a pillar of lire to our fathers are dissolving before 
the purpling dawn of a juster and nobler day than humanity 
ha^ ever knoAvn. But as yet the morning has not advanced 
far enough to give the people a clear vision of the path- 
way along which, with glad, exultant song, will journey the 
children of to-morrow. At each new step in the world's 
progress, humanitv is depressed with the same all-pervading 
doubt, the same uncertainty and fear. This is no less true 
to-day than it has been in the past. History is replete with 
striking illustrations of society convulsed with the ague of 
fear, as from time to time great truths have been discovered 
which ran counter to conservative thought ; and it is fair 
to suppose that succeeding generations, viewing our present 
conflict, will marvel that the lifeless shell of the old held in 
thrall a single aspiring soul, or that we walked so lamely in 
the glorious light of the new day, even as we wonder how a 
world could be so blind as to refuse so long the splendid 
visions of creation given by Copernicus anci other torch 
bearers of truth. 





1) Jrts. A. Ilcnie, author of " Shoro Aorc* ' 
and creator of character ot Uncle Xat. 

(3) The quarrel iu the li^htliouse. Act III. 



(•2) TTnele Xat and Helen. "Xow, now, that 
ain't right." Act 1 

(4) Uncle Xat in la>it act. 



nDa6F^ or riDirror, or tbc IDiflcrcncc Between 
Brtificialit^ anb Deritisin on tbe Stage* 



I. 

The theatre of recent yeai's has l)een a mask rather tlian a 
mirror; that is to say, it has been afflicted with the gangrene 
of artificiality. At intervals some individnal of transcen- 
dent genius has aroused the deeper feelings of the auditors by 
the magic of his power; but for the most part tlie grave or 
gay emotions liave vanished from the brain of the listener 
before the theatre door has been reached. In other words, 
only the surface has been ruffled; the almost unfathomal)le 
depths of the soul have not been stirred. The pictures and 
voicings have lacked the true ring of life's verities in any- 
thing like a full or vital way. They have borne to the real 
much the relationship of the speaking doll to the aspiration- 
illumined soul; and this is one of the chief reasons why the 
theatre has failed to wield a more decisive influence upon 
public opinion. Only that which is true, only that which is 
real, or, if ideal, is in perfect alignment with the eternal 
verities as found in life, can produce a lasting impression on 
the deeper emotions of humanity. 

It is only fair to observe, however, that the drama has not 
been the only sufferer from artificiality. Literature, religion 
and art have come under the same baleful influence. The in- 
tellectual era which dawned during that period of marvellous 
mental activity and growth we call the Renaissance, owed 
as much to the shattering of ecclesiasticism and tradition- 
alism which had long enslaved the brain of western Europe, 
as it did to the broader thoughts derived from Grecian art 
and literature unfolded after the siege of Constantinople. 

The new life and wealth of thought, imagination and 
expression, which characterized the rise of Romanticism, led 
by Victor Hugo in the present century, and which enriched 



28 persons, places an^ Hbeas. 

in such a marked degree the literature of France, was 
valuable and vital in so far as it was a protest against the 
bondage of ancient thought and hoary traditionalism which 
produced successive generations of imitators, and which 
prescribed arbitary rules as ultimates in art. 

The power of the work of our modern school of veritists 
or realists lies in its fidelity to life as it is ; and though I do 
not think that Ibsen, Tolstoi, Howells, or (larland have 
ascended the mountain quite far enough to sweep the whole 
horizon, they are doing magnificent work, and work which 
is vital because it is true.* 

That wliich fails to comprehend the eternal verities which 
make for civilization will fail to elevate or in any large way 
ennoble humanity — it matters not whether it be in the 
drama, in popular education, in art, in literature or in religion. 
That which is artificial, or if true is still encased in the 
mummy clothes of traditionalism, will fail to touch the well- 
springs of life. 

Perhaps nowhere has the artihciality bred of imitation 
been more pronounced than in the drama. The free lance 
iii theolog}-, in literature, and art has ever had a far easier 
path to tread than the dramatists who disregarded the hard 
and fast traditionalism of the stage. The great expense 
incident to staging a play properly; the timidity of managers, 
who are, as a rule, wedded to conservatism; the critics, whose 
education has been entirely along the lines of the past, and 
who, as a ride, are very jealous for the old traditions; and 
lastly a public sentiment, which, when discriminating, is 
usually prejudiced in the direction of conventionalism, render 

* A friend of mine who heard a gifted lady read Ibsen's " Brand " some time since, 
when the reading was ttnished, said: "1 felt like crying out, Stop! The iiiece pierced 
my very soul. It was so ])ainfully terrible. Why? "Because Il)sen's characters are not 
puppets, and the music of real human woe rang"throuL;h this master imciu." 

I saw, some time ago, a letter calleil forth from a thniii:htlul iitisdii who had read 
Mr. Garland's " Prairie Heroine " in Thk Arena. This iicutlcmaii said : " I read this 
sketch more than a week a 1:0, and ha\ >■ lice 11 iiiix'ialilr f\cr >iiii<'. ] knew such things 
existed, but I never /< // /'/,,(/ it uir.nil h,i,,r, r Ihal is cxaiih what true work does. 
It compels the readn to tr.l a- well a- to a.-.cpt in an intrlliMtiia 1 \\a\ . Now when our 
veritists appreciate that tlnMv i- sometliin- iiecHul lic\ oud a statem'ent ot bald facts, 
we sliall liave the real witli allits \i\i.l |h ,w cr, icinloiced and Mtalizeil bv realistic or 
truthlnl idealism. The time has |.assed when the bniMer is satistied to lav the brick 
anil mortar without holding the imaue ..t the splendid structure m his brain, as is seen 
by the hungry way in which the artisans gaze un the architect's jilate of the tinished 
edifice. So the hiunan soul to-day is not content with the truth as it is ; the vivid por- 
trayal of the truth as it shall be must be given. This contains an inspiration no less 
marked than the power of mere portrayal of facts in a vivid way. The man is more 
than matter; beyond the flesh am. blood whieli remniii when ilcatli suiierveiips, we 
have that something illusive Imt \eiv leal. which thinks. a-|iiiv^. hoi.e^ and loves; 
true ideality bears much the -amc rciruion to realism that the inain oi- ~.,,\\\ iioo to the 
l)ody. The trouble with the iiast has been that either the idealism -iven was false, or 
was so divorced from its proper relation to the real as to act as an anaesthetic on the 
people, and from this pseudo-idealism, religion, literature and the drama suffered. 



f\Ms\\ or /iDirror. 29 

it well-nigh impossible to present a dramatic work which is 
strongly unconventional. It is therefore far more than a 
personal triumph when a dramatist succeeds in spite of these 
obstacles. Especially is this the case when the produc- 
tion is artistic throughout; Avhen it is free from all taint of 
sensualism, or of all suggestions of an unhealth}^ character; 
when the coarseness of the variety stage and the high sound- 
ing mock heroics for which the galleries are supposed to 
yearn, are alike absent; and finally, when the subtle atmos- 
phere of the play is so charged with truth that, consciously 
or unconsciously, every auditor receives a moral uplift when 
witnessing the drama. We are only beginning to study 
psychology in a scientific way, while for most investigators 
the psychic realm is as yet an undiscovered countr3^ Still 
we are learning day by day to appreciate more and more the 
subtle power of thought, and to understand that the sub-con- 
scious mind often takes cognizance of the soul of that with 
which we come in contact when this vital essence entirely 
escapes our more blunted conscious perceptions. We are 
beginning to learn that every book, every sermon, every 
drama, indeed every thought, which comes before our brain 
in any real or vital way, elevates or lowers our moral being. 
^Nlany conventional dramas, in Avhich virtue is rewarded and 
vice punished, and which abound in high-sounding moral 
platitudes, are distinctly immoral in their atmosphere; for 
Avhen not artificial and untrue, they are vicious in situation 
or suggestion. 

II. 

A play reflecting nature in a real and wholesome manner 
was enacted during the most of the past winter. I refer 
to Mr. James A. Heme's New England comedy-drama, 
" Shore Acres," which recently won such a signal success in 
Boston. The cordial reception given this play calls for more 
than a passing notice, because its successful presentation was 
a victory of far-reaehing significance for the drama. It 
demonstrated the falsity of certain claims which have long 
fettered dramatic progress and prevented the stage from 
wielding a decisively educational influence which might 
liave been exerted, liad the drama been loyal to truth rather 
than the slave of traditionalism. 

^ Shore Acres " was placed upon the stage of the Boston 



30 persons, places au^ UDeas. 

Museum the middle of last February, and scored an instan- 
taneous and unqualitied success. Its popularity, however, 
steadily grew as tlie season advanced. From the iniddle 
of February to the end of the dramatic season it was 
enacted before full houses. For months, immense audiences 
laughed and wept over this truthful reflection of humble 
New England life, with its hopes and fears, its aspirations and 
prejudices, its love and jealousies, its sunny surface joy and 
its deep, flowing content. For one hundred and thirteen 
performances the old historic theatre was thronged by the 
most thouglitful and sincere people of Boston ; and what 
was peculiarly significant, the closing performances, enacted 
the last week in May, when actoi's usually play to empty 
benches, were given before crowded houses. 

Had the play been simply a clever conventional drama, 
the success would merely have been a marked tribute to the 
genius and ability of Mr. Heme, in his double role of dram- 
atist and actor ; but tlie far wider signiflcance of the triumph 
will be readily appreciated when we remember that " Shore 
Acres " is a radically unconventional drama, which boldly 
ignores many of the most cherished traditions of the con- 
ventional stage, and radiates an atmosphere charged with 
truth and rendered luminous, not by the fire-fly glow of 
empty words, but by the divine radiance of noble deeds shin- 
ing through simple, humble lives ; and, moreover, it is a 
}»lay without a plot or a villain, dealing entirely with the 
lowly ones of earth — merely a section, as it were, taken 
from the every-day life of some poor farmers and fisheimen 
living on the coast of Maine. 

It has been claimed that no play wliich dealt with 
humble life, which ignored plot and excluded the vulgarities 
of the variety stage and the cheap jokes and claptrap of 
the minstrel and melodrama could succeed. The success of 
" Shore Acres " completely refutes this calumny against a 
theatre-going public; while those who have persistently 
asserted that in order to satisfy public taste, plotless and 
villainless dramas which make no illegitimate bids for the 
applause of the gallery, must be relieved by gorgeous stage 
setting and fashionable dressing in which rich gowns cut 
perilously low in front, and ridiculously long behind, make 
up for what is wanting in other artificial features, have been 
shoAvn that bevond tlie tricks of conventionalism, beyond the 



/IDasU or /IDirrov. 3i 

devices of artificiality, rises aut, wliicli, when true, appeals to 
something deeper and finer than the surface whims of human- 
ity, and which, even when she concerns herself Avith the 
humblest life, provided she is true in her delineations, proves 
ab.sorl)ingiy fascinating to all tliose in whom the curreut of 
human emotions Hows in the dee^) uature-ordained channels, 
instead of over the shallow crust of conventionality. 

It was not to be expected that " Shore Acres " would please 
the froth or the dregs of society, for the denizens of these 
strata, through education, environment and the atmosphere of 
life, become unnatural; tliey live behind a mask, and to them 
the mask is more engaging thau the mirror. The erotic 
atmosphere of a fashionable society drama, lieavy Avith arti- 
ficial perfumes and shadowing forth luxurious ease, intrigue, 
and the fever of a superficial existence; representing puppets 
of passion, connoisseurs of wines; and ornamented by inane 
scions of foreigu aristocracies, best satisfies the butterflies of 
fashion ; while plays dealing with plot and passion, in 
which villains are invincible uutil the final act is i-eached, 
and where the young are nightly shown how safes are blown 
open by professional burglars, and various other crimes are 
comnntted with ease and dexterity, appeal to another class 
whose point of view renders life's true visage as unreal as it 
is to the flippant children of fashion's careless world. To 
tlie dwellers in l)oth of these social strata '•' Shore Acres " 
failed to ap})eal ; while from the earnest,f eeling multitude who 
ever recognize the voice of truth whenever spoken, and who 
appreciate true art because their souls are sufficiently near 
the pulsating breast of nature to recognize tlie face of trutii, 
it found a ready welcome. 

I have known numbers of persons, artists, physicians and 
scholars, Avlio attended this play from six to eight times, 
experiencing the keenest pleasure at each performance; such 
is the virility of truth that one does not tire when looking 
into her face. 

"Shore Acres" opens in an idyllic manner.* It is liaying 
time in JNIaine ; the flowers are blooming around tlie old 

* The realistic atmosphere of the play is indicated liy an incident wliich occurred 

one niii'ht when I was witncssiu).'' the iierfdrnuince. Uchind nii' s;it a lady and ticntle- 
man wlio appeared to lie liicatly inriTcstccl in tlic ]irodnc-ticin ; ilic -i-iii Iciiian, however, 

lect any ■• I'.erry lit;hth(>use"' almiy: that shore. 'I'o rach of them, as apjiarentlv to the 
vast audience, it was hisrory rather thau tiction whicli was being unfolded'. ^Many 
illustrations of a similar character might be cited to emphasize the" peculiar influence 
which this play exerted iu taking hold of the real self of the auditor. 



32 persons, places auD 1[^ea5. 

homestead of the ]>eny brothers, and in the distance we see 
the ocean, and the deep blue sky flecked with clouds. At 
some distance, on a reef which juts into the ocean, stands the 
lighthouse, which is later the scene of a terrible struggle 
between the brothers. In this first act the children making 
their mud pies are deliciously natural, as is also Uncle Nat 
when he gives them a wheelbarrow ride. Here we also see 
the land boomer enter this idyllic garden, and poison the 
mind of the owner of the farm by filling it with wild dreams 
of wealth to be acquired Avithout the earning. We note the 
curse of American life^ — speculation — with its seductive 
allurements, fastening itself upon Martin Berry, and hence- 
forth his peace of mind is gone. The scene between the 
lovers in this act is also very charming, and seldom lias any- 
thing appeared before the footlights so true to life as the 
little pleasantry indulged in by old Joel Gates and the hired 
men from the hayfield. It is a glint of sunshine before a 
shadow which is to follow. This banter and sport, though 
grim and savage, is one of those natural outgushings of farm 
life which relieve the monotony of existence. The great 
scene of this act is reached after the hands enter the house 
for dinner, and Martin, the younger brother, informs Uncle 
Nat of his wish to cut up the farm for town lots, because he 
is sure a boom is coming. Here it is that we begin to see 
the tremendous strength of Mr. Heme as an actor. There is 
nothing loud, nothing boisterous, about the words and actions 
of Uncle Nat. On the contrary, everything is exactly the 
reverse ; but his wonderful recital of their father's drown- 
ing, of their mother's year of waiting, of her death, and the 
grave "out yander on the knoll," reveals consummate art, 
and the reserve power wliich fascinates the auditor and wins 
every true heart. But even here Mr. Heme does not reach 
the climax of his portrayal ; it is not until Martin Berry dis- 
appears within the house, and Uncle Nat stands silently 
twisting a cord, that one realizes how much, to use a paradox, 
a real artist may say when he is silent. During these mo- 
ments Uncle Nat's face is a study for a psychologist; while 
the emotions depicted call for no words, but tug at the heart- 
strings of strong-framed men no less than sympathetic 
women. 

The second scene represents the interior of the house, and 
the moving panorama is deliglitfully natural; but it is not 



/niasl? or /IDirror. 33 

until we reach the closing passages of this act that comedy 
gives place to the full play of the strongest emotions known 
to the human heart. As in life the gay and grave tread 
continually upon each other's heels, so in tliis drama we 
laugh and cry in almost the same breath. There is a wonder- 
ful mental study in the final scene of the second act, when 
Uncle Nat, with unconscious skill, impresses his thoughts and 
wishes on the tense brain of his niece, urging in a manner so 
natural that the art conceals the art, for all save psycholo- 
gists who have made unconscious hypnotic suggestion a 
study, and thus are enabled; to appreciate the scientific accu- 
racy of Mr. Heme's work in this remarkable portrayal. 

The third scene takes place in the lighthouse, and at the 
close, through realistic stage effect, gives a vivid picture of 
an ocean in a storm. This scene has been criticised by some 
who imagine tliat simplicity excludes intensity, and who, 
because the ocean is usually calm, would deny the legitimacy 
of introducing the savage awfulness of the tempest without 
and within. The scene in the lighthouse is as true as any 
which precede or follow it. It pictures a supreme and terri- 
ble moment in life, and we catch a vivid glimpse of the incar- 
nate god grap[)ling with the aroused savagery of the animal 
— unselfish love battling with a nature rendered insanely 
blind through passion — a scene which tyjjifies the striujijle 
of the ar/es. The student of present-day events sees in it 
a miniature representation of the conflict now raging, upon 
whose issue Jiangs the civilization of the morrow. That no 
such idea as this entered the brain of the dramatist, is highly 
probable; for a genius continually reflects colossal thought 
upon his canvas, and deals with types without knowing the 
deeper significance of his own creation. There is nothing 
in this great act which is untrue or overdrawn. It is the 
embodiment of high art; and representing, as it does, the 
emotional climax in the drama, it is not only perfectly legiti- 
mate, but without some such strong exhibition of human 
emotion the play would have been artistically incomplete. 

Great, however, as are the preceding scenes, for me, the 
charm of the closing act eclipses all which has preceded it ; 
for here the saint always visible in Uncle Nat shines out so 
impressively that each auditor catches a glimpse of that love 
which some day Avill redeem the world. Then, too, in this 
last scene the artist's touch is everywhere visil)le. 



34 persons, places an^ 1I^cas. 

It is Christmas Eve, the children are undressed, and the 
stockings are hung up. Bob is not the only boy who has 
wished to hang up his trousers instead of his stocking, 
under tlie vain delusion that quantity measures the pleasure 
of life ; and Millie is not the first girl who has wished she 
wore pants. The radiant eyes, the innocent prattle of the 
expectant children; Millie's indignation at her older brother's 
scepticism in regard to the existence of Santa Claus ; tlie 
sombre shadow cast by the sober, silent, and almost broken- 
liearted ]\Iartin; the absorption of little Nat and his mother 
in the exciting novel ; then the home-coming of the loved 
ones, the reconciliation and the saving of the farm, the 
entrance of Joel Gates, and pathetic picture of little Mandy 
— all these and other scenes in this quickl}^ moving pano- 
rama reveal behind the i^lay a great artist and a true man. 
It is not, however, until one by one the actors retire, leaving 
Uncle Nat alone in the great farm kitchen, that one fully 
appreciates the courage of Mr. Heme, in throwing to the 
winds the traditions of the stage. Here, for ten minutes 
before the curtain drops, not a word is spoken. Uncle Nat 
is alone. He seats himself, and the auditors, in rapt atten- 
tion, follow the train of thouglit, as his face reflects emotions 
which swell in his soul. The smile of the dear old face is 
something never to be forgotten. During these moments 
the audience becomes thorouglily fascinated by the wonder- 
ful play of human emotions ; and when at length he rises, 
the spectators, as one person, regard him with breathless 
interest, as he locks the doors, removes the teapot, places the 
kettle on the back of the stove, raises the lid, and with candle 
in hand ascends the old stairway as the clock strikes the 
midnight liour. 

This was the first dramatic performance I remember 
witnessing, in which the closing minutes of the play were 
not marred by vexatious noises incident to the departure of 
auditors; but during the four times I saw "Shore Acres" 
performed, the audience seemed rapt until Uncle Nat dis- 
appeared. It w^as one of the most remarkable illustrations 
of the unconscious tribute paid by the people to the genius 
of the artist and his hdelity to truth that I have ever seen, 
and to students of psychology it was an interesting and valu- 
al)le study. 



^nftask or /JDirror. 35 

III. 

And now a woixl in regard to the great creation of Uncle 
Nathaniel. It has been urged by some zealous defenders of 
realism, that in this masterpiece Mr. Heme has gone beyond 
the limits of realism — and if by this the critics mean that he 
has idealized to a certain degree the grand old man Avhose 
every smile reflects the divine ego which crouches, cowers or 
rules in the brain of every human being, the observation is 
just; but if, on the other hand, Ave are to infer that the 
dramatist and artist has exceeded the bounds of the legit- 
imate by creating an impossible man, or a life impossible 
in that station and with that environment, or that the 
character is not in perfect alignment with the real, the 
stricture is untrue. There is no character in " Shore Acres " 
truer to life than this noble-hearted old New England light- 
keeper, hut he is colossal. I remember admiring the physical 
perfection of the late Phillips Brooks some ten years ago. 
He then seemed an almost perfect type of well-developed 
manhood, so far as his bodily form was concerned; but stand- 
ing by an ordinary man his great proportions were at once 
noticeable. Now this is precisely what we find in the 
ethical portrayal in Uncle Nat. He is veiy real, perfectly 
natural, profoundly true; but he is colossal, revealing most 
vividly the possible saint in every ma)i. 

The popular or conventional pseudo-idealism of the past 
has been essentially immoral because it has been untrue, 
strained and unnatural; or when possible it has been so 
divorced from the real as to carry little vital truth to tlie 
brain of those to whom it has appealed. Realistic idealism, 
when hand in hand with veritism, gives to life a moral up- 
lift, subtle and illusive in character, but most potential for 
lasting good. It is the soul of progress — the inspiration of 
noble endeavor — the touch which floods the })resent Avitli 
light, and reveals the next upward step. 

Realism is vitally important ; she depicts life as it is to- 
day; she is true, impartial, and mercilessly candid. But vital 
idealism complements realism; standing by her side, she radi- 
ates a light which is charged with vitality because it is 
divine ; she is profoundl}' real and true ; her every act and 
deed reflects more of the real soul than we have been accus- 
tomed to see ; if her face is luminous it is because the saint. 



3P. persons, places anD 1I&eas. 

possible in eveiy one, is here triumpliant. The relation 
between realism and vital idealism in the utilitarian economy 
may be compared to two influences acting upon the inmates 
of a building which is on fire. Realism sounds the alarm, 
she describes the true condition; while idealism leads the 
awakened victims from a death-trap to a place of safety. 

I repeat, that in Uncle Nat we see exemplified the possible 
saint in every life; he is the e7nbodiment of Imman love. 
The affection for the old home, owing to its associations ; the 
tenderness shown for the memory of father and mother ; the 
love for his younger brother, which led him to make the 
supreme sacrifice of life, that his brother might be happy ; 
the wealth of affection for the children, which is in essence 
parental love, and the broad, tolerant spirit evinced toward 
the socially ostracized young doctor — these are all phases of 
the one supreme passion which illumines without dazzling, 
which warms but never scorches. In the degree in which 
this full-orbed love is revealed, we gauge man's progress from 
the animal to the divine. In Uncle Nathaniel, from his first 
entrance to the drop of the curtain, there is nothing strained 
or unnatural. Every act, ever}" utterance, is true to the finer 
impulses of life; and every manifestation of the trium})h of 
love over selfishness has found its counterpart in millions 
of lives. Not that all these manifestations are usually seen 
in a single individual, for, as I have observed, this creation 
is colossal ; but it is also true, and being true, it carries 
with it a vital and uplifting inspiration. 







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a poet of tbe people. 



Ix this chapter I wish to give a brief outline of the life 
and work of tlie poet, composer, and singer, James G. Clark, 
whose line lyrical and reformative verses have been an inspii-a- 
tion to thousands of lives. 

Mr. Clark was born in Constantia, X. Y., in 1S30. His 
father was a man of intiuenee in his community, being recognized 
as intelligent and honorable, and possessing that cool, dispassion- 
ate juilgment Avhich always commands resi)ect. The mother gave 
to her son his poetical gift and his intense love for humanity, 
his all-absorbing devotion to justice and liberty, and a nature at 
once refined yet brave. When but three years old, the little 
poet. had learned from his mother "The Star of Bethlehem," 
sung to the air of " Bonny Doon," and could sing~the entire piece 
without mis!*ing a word or note. When twenty-one years of ?ge 
he was well known in his community as a concert singer of rare 
ability. At this time Mr. Clark attracted the attention of Mr. 
Ossian E. Dodge, who, in addition to publishing a literary jour- 
nal in Boston, had under his management the most popular con- 
cert quartette in New England. Mr. Dodge was a man of cpiick 
perception ; he readily saw that the young poet and singer would 
prove a valuable acquisition to his already famous troupe, and 
promptly appointed him musical composer for his company. 
Into this work ^Ii-. Clark threw all the enthusiasm of youth, com- 
posing such universally popular songs as " The Old Mountain 
Tree," " The Rover's Grave," " Meet Me l)y the Running Brook," 
and " The Rock of Liberty." " The Old Mountain Tree " was 
for some time a reigning favorite through the land, it being sung 
for months in theatres and concerts. At the Boston Museum, 
then the leading theatre of Boston, it was no unusual thing for 
it to be called for as many as three times in a single evening. 

One day during this period of popularity, his mother, who was a 
very religious woman, said to him, "James, why cannot you 
write a hymn ? " He loved his mother devotedly. There Avas 
between them more than the strong ties of mother and son. She 
had fostered and encouraged his every poetical and musical aspi- 
ration, and it Avas his most earnest desii-e to gratify her vrhh but 

37 



38 persons, places au& iF^eas. 

tliouo'lit aloDg this line came slowly, and almost a year elapsed 
before the yoinig man placed a pencilled copy of his hymn, 
" The Evergreen Mountains of Life," in his mother's hand. tShe 
read it through silentl}', too much overcome to speak, while great 
tears coursed down her wrinkled cheeks. At this period he 
composed several songs and hymns which have been univer- 
sally popular, such as " Where the Roses Never Wither," 
" The Beautiful Hills," and " The Isles of the By and By." Of 
these poems Dr. A. P. Miller of San Fi-ancisco, himself a poet 
of more than ordinary power and an admiralJe critic, writes : 
" These songs have for thirty years been received by all classes 
as forming a group of original and perfect lyrics adapted to every 
platform and hall, whether sacred or secular. To say this," 
continues Dr. Miller, "detracts nothing from his songs of love 
and freedom. It is only saying that they are the St. Elias, the 
Tacoma, the Hood, and the Shasta, which out-tower all other 
song peaks and reach those heights where the sunshine is eternal 
and the view universal." 

It may be well to note at this time the singular fact that in his 
poetical life ]Mr. Clark has apjieared in three distinct roles, although 
he has always liecn the i)oet of the peoj)le. During his youth 
and early manhood the popular lyric and ballad claimed his 
power. It was the work of this period which won for him the 
name of the Tom Moore of America ; and had he not taken the 
other upward steps, the appellation would not have been so pal- 
pably inadequate to descril)e the man who for thirty years has 
been the poet of reform and the prophet of the new day. When 
the sixties dawned, the first song epoch of his life was drawing 
to a close, and the mutterings of tiie I{el)ellion were op]»ressing 
age and stimulating j-outli throughout the North. Mr. Clark 
had given his country a collection of songs and ballads destined 
to live long after his body had returned to dust, and he had sung 
his melody into the hearts of thousands who had listened to the 
poet composer and singer with that rapt attention which is the 
tribute of manhood and womanhood to genuine merit. The 
clouds of rel:)ellion Avere gathering around the horizon ; but eie 
the shock of arms thrilled the nation, Mr. Clark was summoned 
to the death bed of his mother. Sitting at her side as the spirit 
was poising for flight, and catching inspiration from her words, 
there came to him that exceedingly popular and touching poem, 
" Leona," which was first published in the Home Journal of 
New York, then edited by George JVtorris and N. P. Willis. 
This poem, Mr. Morris afterwards declared, had been more 
widely copied, admired, and committed to memory than any other 
composition of its class ever published in America. As " Leona " 
affords an admirable illustration of Mr. Clark's work at this time, 



B poet of tbe people. 39 

and because it belongs to a class of ]ioems always treasured by 
the people, I will give several stanzas.* 

Leona, the hour draws nigh — 

The hour we've awaited so hmg, 
For the augel to open a door through the sky, 
That my spirit may break through its prison and trj 

Its voice in an infinite song. 

Just now, as the slumbers of night 

Came o'er me witli peace-giving breath, 
Tlie curtain, half lifted, revealed to my sight 
Those windows which look on the kingdom of light 

That borders the River of Death. 

And a vision fell solemn and sweet. 

Bringing gleams of a morning-lit land; 
I saw the white shore which tlie pale waters beat, 
And 1 heard the low lull as they broke at their feet 

Who walk on the beautiful strand. 

And I wondered why spirits should cling 

To their clay with a struggle and sigh. 
When life's purple autumn is better than sjiring, 
And the soul tlies away like a sparrow, to sing 

In a climate where leaves never die. 

Leona, come close to my bed. 

And lay your dear hand on my brow ; 
The same touch thrilled me in days that are tied, 
And raised the lost roses of youth from the dead, 

Can brighten tlie brief moments now. 

We have loved from the cold world apart ; 

And your trust was too generous and true 
For their hate to o'erthrow; when the slanderer's dart 
Was rankling deep in my desolate heart, 

I was dearer than ever to you. 

I thank the Great Father for this. 

That our love is not lavished in vain; 
Each germ, in the future, will blossom to bliss. 
And the forms that we love, and' the lips that we kiss, 

Never shrink at the shadow of pain. 

By the light of this faith am I taught 

That death is but action begun; 
In the strength of this hope I have struggled and fought 
With the legions of wrong, till my armor has caught 

The gleam of Eternity's sun. 

Leona, look forth and behold : 

From headland, from hillside, and deep. 

The day king surrenders his banners of gold; 

The twilight advances thnnigh woodland and wold, 
And the dews are beginning to weep. 

« The selection from "Leona," " Fremont's IJattle Hynm," and " The Voice of the 
People," as well as the poems " Minnie .Mintnrn • and '■ The Intinite :Mather, are from 
Mr. Clark's volume " Poetry and Song." Published by D. Lothrop & Co., Boston, Mass. 



40 persons, places anC> lIDeas. 



The moon's silver hair lies uncurled, 
Down the broad-bi'easted mountains away; 
Ere sunset's red glories again shall be furled 
On the walls of the west, o'er the plains of the world, 
I shall rise in a limitless day. 

Oh, come not in tears to my tomb, 
Xor plant with frail flowers the sod; 
There is rest among roses too sweet for its gloom, 
And life where the lilies eternally bloom, 

In the balm-breathing gardens of God. 



II. 

The divine afflatus whieli fills the poet brain, and weaves itself 
into Avords which thrill and move the [irofound depths of human 
emotions, was next manifested in Mr. Clark's soul-awakening 
songs of freedom. The sweet ballads and lyrics of love and 
home disappeared before stern Duty's voice. While "W'hittiei-, 
Longfellow and Lowell were firing the heart of New England, 
]Mr. Clark sent forth " Fremont's Battle Hymn," one of the most 
noteworthy poems of war-times, and a song which produced great 
enthusiasm Avherever sung. Some idea of the influence wdiich 
these stirring lines produced on an already awakened conscience 
may be imagined by perusal of the following lines: — 

Oh, spirits of Washington, Warren, and Wayne! 

Oh, shades of the heroes and patriots slain! 

Come down from your mountains of emerald and gold, 

And smile on the banner ye cherished of old; 

Descend in your glorified ranks to the strife, 

Like legions sent forth from the armies of life; 

Let us feel your deep presence as waves feel the breeze 

When white fleets like snowfiakes are di-owned in the seas. 

As the red lightnings run on the black, jagged cloud, 
Ere the thunder-king speaks from his wind-woven shroud, 
So gleams the bright steel along valley and shore. 
Ere the conflict shall startle the land with its roar; 
As the veil which conceals the clear starlight is riven 
Wlien clouds strike together, by warring winds driven, 
So the blood of the race must be oltVrcd like rain, 
Ere the stars of our country are ransomed again. 

The hounds of Oppression were howling the knell 

Of martyrs and prophets at gibbet and cell. 

While Mercy despaired of the blossoming years 

When her harpstrings no more shall be rusted with tears; 

But God never ceases to strike for the right. 

And the ring of his anvil came down through the night. 

Though the world was asleep and the Nation seemed dead. 

And Truth into bondage by Error was led. 



H po^t ot tbe people. 41 

Will the bannei'S of morn at your bidding be furled, 
When the day-king arises to quicken the world ? 
Can ye cool tlie fierce fires of his heat-throbbing breast, 
Or turn him aside from his goal in the west? 
Ah! sons of the plains where the orange tree blooms, 
Ye may come to our pine-covered mountains for tombs, 
But the light ye would smother was kindled by One 
Who gave to the universe planet and sun. 

There is present in this poem much of the fire of the old 
prophets of Israel, hlended with that lofty faith in the power and 
favor of God which gave peculiar force to iiiaiiy of the most 
striking of Whittier's anti-slavery verses. 

During the early days of the war the poet travelled from towai 
to town, singing the spirit of freedom into the hearts of the 
people, and arousing to action scores and hundreds of persons in 
every community visited, who had heretofore taken little interest 
in the pending struggle. In this way he raised many thousands 
of dollars for the Sanitary Commission and Soldiers' Aid societies. 
In addition to " P^remont's Battle Hymn," this period called from 
his pen a number of war songs and poems, such as " Let Me Die 
wnth My Face to the Foe," "When You and I Were Soldier 
Boys," "The Children of the Battle-field," and "Minnie Minturn." 
The history of this last-mentioned jioem is peculiarly interesting, 
aiid i-eveals the fact that at times coming events have been 
flashed with singular vividness on the sensitive mind of our poet. 
The pathetic facts connected with the poem are as follows : Mr. 
Clark w^as visiting a family by the name of Minturn. In the 
home circle w^as a young lady named ]\[aria, who had a lover in 
the army. One day Mr. Clark said, "If your name were Minnie, 
it Avoulil make a musical combination for a poem." Tlie young 
lady blushed and replied that her friends often called her Minnie, 
and doubtless at this moment her thoughts went out to the soldier 
boy for whom she daily prayed. Some months passed, wdien one 
night, while the poet was riding in a sleeping-car, the words of the 
ballad "Minnie Minturn" forced themselves upon his brain, so 
haunting his mind that he could get no sleep until he had trans- 
ferred them to paper. This w^as done by drawing aside the 
curtain of his berth, and w^riting in the faint glimmer of the lamps, 
wdiich had been turned low for the night. It is probable that the 
poet did not dream, as he pencilled the following lines, that he 
was writing a prophecy wdiich a year later was to become his- 
tory. Yet such was in fact the case. 

Minnie Minturn, in the shadow 

I have waited here alone, — 

On the battle's gory meadow. 

Which the scythe of death has mown, 

I have listened for your coming, 

Till the dreary dawn of day, 



42 persons, places auD H^eas. 

But I only liear the drumming, 
As the armies march away. 

Minnie, dear Minnie, 

1 have heard tlie angel's warning, 
I have seen the golden shore; 

I will meet you in the morning 
AVhere the'shadows come no more 

III. 

We come now to the third epoch in the history of Mr. Chirk's 
poetry. The war wan over. His thoughts turned to the toiling 
millions of our land, for from early manhood his heart had 
ever kept rhythmic |)ace with the hopes, aspirations, and sorrows 
of the masses. Now, however, t!ie ballad singer who in the 
nation's crisis became the poet reformer, becomes the prophet 
poet of the dawning day. And with advancing years came added 
power; for it is a notable fact that with the silver of age has come 
a depth of thought, coupled with strength and finish in style not 
found in his earlier Avork. Take, for example, the following 
stanzas from " A Vision of the Old and New." 

'Twas in the slumber of the night — 

That solemn time, that mystic state — 
When, fi-om its loftiest signal height, 

My soul o'erlooked the realm of Fate, 
And read the writing on the wall. 

That proplicsies of tilings to be, 
And heard strange voi.-es rise and fall 

Like murmurs from a distant sea. 

The world below me throlibed and rolled 

In all its glory, pride, and shame. 
Its lust for power, its greed for gold. 

Its flitting lights that man calls fame, — 
And from their long and deep repose, 

In memory and page sublime, 
The ancient races round me rose 

Like phantoms from the tombs of Time. 

I saw the Alpine torrents press 

To Tiber with their snow-white foam. 
And prowling in the wilderness 

The wolf that suckled infant Rome. 
But wilder than the mountain flood 

That plunged upon its downward way, 
And fiercer than the she-wolf's brood, 

The soul of man went forth to slav. 



Kingdoms to quick existence sprang. 
Each thirsting for another's gore, 

The din of wars incessant rang. 

And signs of hate each forehead wore. 



H poet ot tbe people. 43 

All nations bore the mark of Cain, 

And only knew tlie law oi might: 
They lived and strove for selhsh gain 

And perished like the dreams or night. 

I woke; and slept, and dreamed once more, — 

And from a continent's v^^hite crest, 
I heard two oceans seethe and roar. 

Along vast lands by natnre blest: 
All races mingled at my feet. 

With noise and strange confusion life, 
And Old World projects — incomplete — 

Seemed maddened with a new-found life. 

The thirst for human blood had waned; 

But boldly seated on the throne. 
The grasping god of Mammon reigned. 

And claimed Earth's product for his own. 
He gathered all that toilers made, 

To till his vaults with wealth untold. 
The sunlight, water, air, and shade 

Paid tribute to his greed for gold. 

He humbly paid his vows to God, 

While agents gatliered rents and dues. 
He ruled tlie nation witli a nod, 

And bribed the pulpit with the pews; 
Yet, over all the regal form 

Of Freedom towered, unseen by him. 
And eagles poised above the storm 

That draped the far horizon's rim. 
At length, the distant thunder spoke 

In deep and threatening accents; then 
The long roll of the earthquake woke 

From sleep a hundred million men. 

I woke: and slept and dreamed again: 

A softened glory tilled the air. 
The morning flooded land and main, 

And Pearc w;is lnoodliig everywhere; 
From sea to sea the song was known 

That only God's own children know, 
Whose note^ by angel voices sown. 

Took root two thousand years ago. 

No more the wandering feet had need 

Of priestly guides to Paradise, 
And banished was the iron creed 

That measured God by man's devise; 
Xo more the high cathedral dome 

Was reared to iell His honors by, 
For Christ was throned in every home, 

And shone from every human eye. 

No longer did the beast control 

And make the spirit desolate; 
No more the poor man's struggling soul 

Sank down before the wheel of Fate: 



44 persons, places an& UDeas. 

And pestilence coukl not draw near, 

Nor war and crime be felt or seen — 
As flames, that lap the withered spear, 

Expire before tlie living green. 

And all of tliis shall come to pass — 

For God is Love, and Love shall reign. 
Though nations first dissolve like grass 

Before tlie lire that sweeps the plain; 
And men shall cease to lift their gaze 

To seek Him in the far-oft" blue, 
But live the Truth their lips now jiraise 

And in their lives His life renew. 

Tiiis poem Avas fminded on a vivid dream wdiieli came to tlie 
poet and so impressed him that he found no peace until he com- 
mitted the verses to i)aper. In the following- stanzas from the 
" Voice of the People " we also find the clear note of the prophet. 

ISwiug inward, O gates of the future ! 

Swing outward, ye doors of the past! 
For the soul of the people is moving 

And rising from slumber at last; 
The black forms of night are retreating, 

The white peaks have signalled the day. 
And Freedom her long roll is beating, 

And calling her sons to the fray. 

And woe to the rule that has plundered 

And trod down the wounded and slain, 
While the wars of the Old Time have thundered. 

And men poured their life-tide in vain; 
The day of its triumph is ending. 

The evening draws near with its doom. 
And the star of its strength is descending, 

To sleep in dishonor and gloom. 

The soil tells the same fruitful story. 

The seasons their bounties display. 
And the ticnvers lift their faces in glory 

To catch the warm kisses of day; 
Wliile our fellows are treated as cattle 

That are muzzled when treading the corn. 
And millions sink down in life's battle 

With a sigh for the day they were born. 

Ah, woe to the robbers who gather 

In fields wliere they never have sown, 
Who have stolen the jewels from labor 

And builded to Mammon a throne ; 
For the snow-king, asleep by the fountains. 

Shall wake in the summer's hot breath, 
■ And descend in his rage from the mountains, 

Bearing terror, destruction, and death. 

For the Lord of the harvest hath said it. 

Whose lips never uttered a lie. 
And his prophets and poets have read it 

In svmbols of earth and of skv : 



H poet of tbe people. 45 

That to him who has revelled iu plunder 

Till the angel of conscience is dumb, 
The shock of the earthquake and thunder 

And tempest and torrent shall come. 

Swinu' inward, O gates of the future! 

ywing outward, ye doors of the past! 
A giant is waking from slumber 

And rending his fetters at last; 
From the dust where his proud tyrants found him 

Unhonored and scorned and l)etrayed, 
He shall rise with the sunliglit around him, 

And rule iu the realm he has made. 

The poet's 103'alty to the toilers is voiced in most of his latest 
poems and songs. "The People's Battle Hymn,"* ])ublishe(l last 
autumn, Avas suno; with great effect at the industrial gatheiinu's 
throughout the West. Of this song General J. B. Weaver, the 
candidate of the People's Party for president in 1S9'2, sai<l: '^ It 
is the song we have been waiting for. It is an Iliad of itself." 

The following stanzas from this song will give an idea of the 
exaltation of thought Avhich, when accompanied by Mr. Clark's 
soul-stirring music, arouses an almost indescribable entliusiam 
among the people whercA-er it is sung : — 

There's a sound of swelling waters, there's a voice from out the blue. 

Where the Master his arm is revealing, — 
Lo! the glory of the morning liglits the forehead of the New, 

And the towers of the Old Time are reeling. 



Lift high the banner, break from the chain. 

Wake from the thraldom of story; 
Like the torrent to the river, tlie river to the main, 

Forward to liberty and glory! 

Tliere is tramping in the cities where the people march along, 

And the trumpet of Justice is calling; 
There's a crashing of the helmet on the forehead of the Wrong, 

And the battlements of Babylon are falling. 

He shall gather in the homeless, he shall set the people free. 

He shall walk hand in hand with the toiler, — 
He shall render back to labor, from the mountains to the sea. 

The lands that are bound by the spoiler. 

There is doubt within the temples where the gods are bought and sold. 

They are leaving the false for the true way; 
There's a cry of consternation where the idols made of gold 

Are melting in the glance of the New Day. 

O! the Master of the morning, how we waited for his light 
In the old days of doubting and fearing! 

"The People's Battle Hvmn." Words and music by J. G. Clark. I'liblislied b.v 
Oliver Uitson >.<: Co., Boston, INIass. 



46 persons, places mib 1[C>ea3» 

How we watched among the shadows of the long and weary night 
For his feet upon the mountains appearing. 

Let tlie lightning tell the story to the sea's remotest bands, 

Let thecamptires of Freedom be flaming; 
While the voices of the heavens join the chorus of the land, 

Which the children of men are proclaiming. 

In another recent poem, entitled " A Song for tlie Period," we 
catch a gUmpse of the deep sympathy ever felt bj' tliis poet for 
the people. I have only space for two stanzas. 

I cannot join with the old-time friends 

In tlieir merry games and sports 
While the pleading wail of the poor ascends 

To the Judge of the Upper Courts; 
And I cannot sing the glad, free songs 

That the world around me sings, 
While my fellows move in cringing throngs 

At the beck of the gilded kings. 

The scales hang low from the open skies, — 

That have weighed them, one and all, — 
And the fiery letters gleam and rise 

O'er the feast in the palace liall; 
But my lighter lays shall slumber on 

The bouglis of the willow tree 
Till the king is slain in Babylon, 

And the captive hosts go free. 

Mr. Clark was married early in life to a lady of his native 
home. Three childi-cn came to bless this union. One, however, 
was recalled by the infinite Father. In memory of this child the 
stricken father composed a touching little gem entitled " Beauti- 
ful Annie." 

Mr. Clark is not only a poet, musical composer, and singer of 
rare ability, he is a scholarly essayist, and, during recent years, has 
contributed many papers of power and literary value to the lead- 
ing dailies of the Pacific coast. A fair specimen of his Avork in 
this line will be found in the following criticism on Robert Burns, 
which I take from a recent contribution to one of the most influ- 
ential dailies in Southern California. In speaking of Ilobert 
Burns, Mr. Clark saj^s : — 

True, he was not compelled to affect the peculiar di:dect in which 
was written his most characteristic and enduring verse, because it was 
the dialect in which he was born and reared ; but, nevertheless, in and 
through it he has made not only all Scotland love him as no other poet 
is loved to-day, but he won the homage of lovers of humanity, democ- 
racy and religious freedom wherever the English language is spoken. 

It was through his songs and poems, written in the homely Scotch 
dialect of his times, that the common Scotch people became a nation of 
poets. It was through Burns, who found poetry in the most common 
and lowly objects, — even the little "mouse," whose nest had been 



B poet of tbe people, 47 

wrecked by the poet's plow, — that the most unk'ttcrcd Scotchnian dis- 
covered the poetry lying hiteut in his own heart and niiml; uml ata j)eriod 
when "poetic art," so called, was claimed as the exclusive inheritance 
of the self-elected and cultured few, he restored to the uneducated 
peasant and cotter his lawful birthright. 

There is no such thing as estimating the extent to which the better 
and higher qualities of Scotch character have been quickened, developed, 
and refined through the lyrics of Robert Burns, more esijecially those 
lyrics that appeal directly to the hearts and every-day life of his country- 
men. This is why the true Scotchman, while admiring Scott, loves aiid 
worships Burns. 

The wealth of poetic imagery, strength and deep penetration 
Avhich characterizes the recent work of jVIr. Clark is very notice- 
able in some of his later poems, and reaches altitudes of sublimity 
in thought rare among modern poets. This characteristic is well 
illustrated in " The Infinite Mother," which I give below. It is 
considered bj- many critics as Mr. Clark's masterpiece. 

THE INFINITE MOTHER. 

I am mother of Life and companion of God! 

I move in each mote from the suns to the sod, 

I brood in all darkness, I gleam in all light, 

I fathom all depth, and I crown every hight; 

Within me the globes of the universe roll, 

And through me all matter takes impress and soul. 

Without me all forms into fchaos would fall; 

I was under, within, and around, over all. 

Ere the stars of the morning in harmony sung. 

Or the systems and suns from their grand arches swung. 

I loved you, O earth! in those cycles profound, 

When darkness unbroken encircled you round, 

And the fruit of creation, the race of mankin<l. 

Was only a dream in the Infinite Mind ; 

I nursed you, O earth! ere your oceans were born, 

Or your mountains rejoiced in the gladness of morn. 

When naked and helpless you came from the womb. 

Ere the seasons had decked you with verdure and bloom 

And all that appeared of your form or your face 

Was a bare, lurid Ijall in the vast wilds of space. 

When your bosom was shaken and rent with alarms 

I calmed and caressed you to sleep in my arms. 

I sung o'er your pillow the song of the spheres 

Till the hum of its melody softened your fears. 

And the hot flames of passion burned low in your breast 

As you lay on my heart like a maiden at rest; 

When fevered, I cooled you with mist and with shower. 

And kissed you with cloudlet and rainbow and flower. 

Till you woke in the heavens arrayed like a <iueen, 

In garments of purple, of gold, and of green. 

From fabrics of glory my fingers had spun 

For the mother of nations and bride of the sun. 



48 persons, places an& ITbeas. 

There was love in your face, aud your bosom rose fair, 
And tlie scent of your lilies made fragrant the air, 
And your blush in the glance of your lover was rare 
As you waltzed in the light of his warm yellow hair, 
Or lay in the haze of his tropical noons, 
Or slept 'neath the gaze of the passionless moons: 
And I stretched out my arms from the awful unknown, 
AVhose channels are swept by my rivers alone, 
And held you secure in your young mother days. 
And sung to your offspring their lullaby lays, 
While races and nations came forth from your breast, 
Lived, struggled, and died, and returned to their rest. 

All creatures conceived at the Tountain of Caiise 

Are born of my travail, controlled by my laws ; 

I throb in their veins and I breathe in their breath, 

Combine them for effort, disperse them in death; 

Xo form is too great or minute for my care, 

No place so remote but my presence is there. 

I bend in the grasses that whisjier of spring, 

I lean o'er the spaces to hear the stars sing, 

I laugh with the infant, I roar with the sea, 

I roll in the thunder, 1 hum with the bee; 

From the centre of suns to the tlowers of the sod 

I am shuttle and loom in the purpose of God, 

The ladder of action ail spirit must climb 

To the clear bights of Love from the lowlands of Time. 

'Tis mine to protect you, fair bride of the sun, 

Till tlie task of the lli'ide and the bridegroom is done; 

Till the roses that crown you shall wither away. 

And the bloom on your beautiful cheek shall decay ; 

Till the soft golden locks of your lover turn gray. 

And palsy shall fall on the pulses of Day; 

Till you cease to give birth to the children of men, 

And your forms are absorlied in my currents again — 

But your sons and your daughters, uuconcpiered by strife. 

Shall rise on my pinions aud bathe in my life 

While the fierce glowing splendors of suns cease to burn, 

And bright constellations to vapor return, 

And new ones shall rise from the graves of the old. 

Shine, fade, and dissolve like a tale that is told. 

Like Victor Hugo, Kalph Waldo Emerson, Robert Browning, 
and, indeed, a large proportion of the most profoundly spiritual 
natures of the nineteenth century, ^li-. Clark, while deeply relig- 
ious, is unfettered by creeds and nntrammelied by dogmas. In 
bold contrast to the narrow-minded religionists who, like the 
Pharisees of Jesus' time, worship the letter, Avhich kills, and who 
are to-day persecuting men for conscience' sake, and seeking to 
unite church and state, Mr. Clark's whole life lias been a protest 
against intolerance, persecution, and bigfotry. Living in a purely 
spiritual realm, he loves, and that renders it impossible to cher- 
ish the spii-it of bigotry and persecution manifested by the Ameri- 



H iPoet ot tbe people, 49 

can Sabbath Union and other persecuting and unchristian bodies, 
whose leaders have never caught a glimpse of the real spirit or 
character of Jesus. lie is a follower of the great Nazarene in 
the truest sense of the word, and thus cannot understand hoAv 
professed Christians can so prostitute religion and ignore their 
Master's injunctions as to persecute their fellow-men for opin- 
ion's sake. On this and kindred subjects he has written very 
thoughtfully and with great power. 

The light of another M^orld has already silvered and glorified 
the brow of this poet of the dawn ; and as I have before observed, 
with n-dTandng years comes intellectual and spiritual strength 
rather than a diminution of power. Such men as Mr. Clark 
wield a subtle influence for good in the world. Tlieir lives and 
thoughts are alike an ins})iration to thousands ; their names live 
enshrined in tlie love of the earnest, toiUng, struggling people — 
the nation's real nobility. 



after Siitv^ Ucars, 



The snov7 of age is on my heart, 
But eternal Spring is in my heart. 

— Victor Hugo. 

Of the many who enter life strong and enthusiastic in the 
cause of justice and humauit}', only a few persevere to the 
end, without faltering, if that end be deferred until the 
snows of age crown the brow. vSome centre their energies 
on a single reform and battle unceasingly for the despised 
cause, patiently and dauntlessly braving the contumely and 
l>ersecution of conventionalism. They are usually very 
finely strung natures; indeed, I think the reformer who bat- 
tles for the Aveak and oppressed, is always almost super- 
sensitive; hence, the abuse, the sneei-s and social ostracism 
he is compelled to endure for the weak, ignorant, and 
oppressed, whose cause he makes his own, cut into his 
very soul in a manner little dreamed of by the careless 
masses. At length, however, \\v^ reform is accomplished; 
the minority becomes the majority, and he wiio was 
yesterday denounced as a shallow agitatcu-, an insufferable 
crank and a hysterical emotionalist is hailed as a prophet, 
hero and sage by that same soulless and shallow conven- 
tionalism which scorned him so long as the cause for which 
he battled was unpoi)ular. 

When this hour arrives it carries perils with it for the 
reformer; it is now so easy to rest on well-earned laurels 
and enjoy the sweeter melodies of life. The cause is won— 
nay, not the cause, but one battle in the ceaseless warfaie 
by which man rises to nobler heights; but conventionalism 
will have it that the raii.'^c is won. and often the reformer at 
this point falls by the wayside, ceasing to be a reformer, 
{ilthough he nuiy continue to utter high, sweet, and noble 
thoughts. The poet Whittier is an example of this class. 
After the war the despised agitator who for so long had 
suffered social ostracism, was welcomed into the arms of 
the conventionalism which had endeavored to slay him. 
All that was asked of him was that he would rest on his 
laurels, in so far as aggressive reform work was concerned, 
and turn his muse to greener and more restful j)astures. 
He naturally hated conflict and loved peace. He chose the 
velvet, grass-lined banks and rested by the wayside, while 
Wendell Phillips from the cause of the oppressed black 

50 



Htter Si.rt\? l^ears, 5i 

man turned to that of the enskived white man and dealt 
giant blows tor freedom, justice and progress so long as 
his silver-toned voice could utter a protest against inhuman- 
ity, injustice and oppression. 

Another class of reformers becomes discouraged by the 
ingratitude and ignorance of those they seek to aid. They 
find themselves misjudged, misrepresented and maligned 
b}" the demagogues who, influenced by the capital of the 
ojjpressors or consumed by love of self and petty jealousy, 
discredit the high, i)ure unselfishness of single-hearted men 
and women; and the latter too often, after being made the 
target for those they would help, become discouraged and 
lapse into silence; their voices like the powerful guns of 
a battle ship are stilled, but the spiking is due to traitors on 
board, rather than to the fire from the enemy. 

kStill another class who enter life strong, aggressive, 
brave, and determined to consecrate their best energies 
to the cause of human brotherhood, gradually fall under 
the spell of conventionalism; the multitudinous disappoint- 
ments which beset their pathway slowly dami)en the ardor 
which impelled them onward. Hope, courage and deter- 
mination give way to a painful and oppressive pessimism. 
The " Locksley Hall " of youth, which is the story of 
strength, hope and determination, is changed into the 
"Locksley Hall Sixty Years After," which is a tale of 
despair. ' This is the saddest of all sights, save that of open 
betrayal or treachery. 

In broad contrast with those who aggressively enter the 
warfare for eternal justice and human brotherhood, but 
who becoming tired, disheartened or asi)hyxiated, fall l)y 
the wayside, we find a few — a chosen band of lofty s])irits — 
who persevere in the cause until the night comes upon them, 
and they fall with their armor on, like Victor Hugo, who 
was a conspicuous representative of this order of nature's 
royalty. They can exclaim, "The winter is on our heads, 
but eternal sj)ring is in our hearts." They are pro])hets — 
Ihey are more than propliets, for the ])rophet may only 
discern the signs of the times and point out the luminous 
truth he beholds. They are warriors — they are more than 
warriors, for a warrior may fight for self or in an evil cause. 
They are heroes — they are more than heroes, for the hero 
may win glorious victories but afterward rest on his laurels 
amid the plaudits of an admiring world. They are the ser- 
vants of progress, the apostles of light, who think only of 
serving the race, shedding forth the light of justice, dis- 
pelling the darkness, and enabling the race to move forward. 



62 persons, places anC) UDeas* 

Amon^ those who ])elong to this select band of truly 
royal souls, who are Poets of the people, \Mlliam Morris, 
Gerald Massey and our own James G. Clark are inspiring 
figures which are still among us. Mr. Clark, like ^^'h it- 
tier, battled for the emaucii)ation of the black man. 
With pen and voice he performed valiant service for 
the slaves, and when the clash of arms came, as j^oet, 
composer and singer he became a threefold inspira- 
tion in the struggle for liberty and a broader justice. But 
unlike AVhittier, after the war was over this poet refused 
to lay down his armor; he knew the victory was an incident 
in the history of progress. The enfranchisement of tlie 
negroes was not the only enfranchisement to be accom- 
plished; indeed, the black man had only been freed from one 
form of slavery; he still remained ignorant, and his soul 
had never been warmed into life by justice and kindliness. 
Moreover, the war, while it had broken the chains of chattel 
slavery, had promoted special privileges, and led to the 
enactment of class laws as gigantic in character as they 
were multitudinous in number; these evils, tolerated at 
first owing to the exigencies of the time, and because the 
attention of statesmen and patriots was occupied with the 
immediate life of the Union, carried with them a potential 
serfdom more far-reaching and essentially tragic than the 
slavery which had hitherto been recognized in the New 
World. Far-seeing minds, when the stress of the war was 
past, beheld in this growing conventionalism, fostered by 
special ])rivilege, a menace to the rights of individuals, 
which threatened to make the re])ublic what the patriciaTis 
through the power of wealth made of the ancient common- 
wealtli of Home — the republican shell, undtn- cover of which 
the most hopeless oppression flourished. Against the 
aggressiveness of wealth in the hands of shrewd, cunning 
and soulless men and corporations Mr. Clark I'aised his 
clarion voice, even more eloquent than in the old days when 
he wrote, composed and sung for freedom and the Union 
before the black man had been freed. It is difficult to con- 
ceive a picture more inspiring than this i)atriarch of Free- 
dom, whose brow is already lighted with the dawn of 
another lif(\ fronting the morning with eyes of fire and 
voice rich, full and clear, now persuasive, now imperious, 
but never faltering, as he delivers the messages of eternal 
truth, progress, and justice. 

I know of no singer of our time to whom the following 
words, penned by James Russell Lowell in 1844 when writ- 
ing of Whittier, are so applicable as to the poet v:e are now 



Btter Siit^ l^ears* 53 

considering. By clianoino; the word Whitticr to //am poet 
iu the following we have a more graphic and concise char- 
acterization of James G. Clark than it wonld be possible for 
me to give: 

''He has not ])ut his talent out at profitable interest by cater- 
ing totheinsolentandpliarisaical self-esteem of the times,nor 
has he hidden it in the damask of historical commonplaces, 
or a philanthropy too universal to concern itself with par- 
ticular wrongs, the practical redressing of which is all that 
renders philanthropy of value. Most poets are content to 
follow the s])irit of their age as pigeons follow a leaking 
grain cart, picking a kcn-nel here and there out of the dry 
dust of the past. Not so with [this poet]. From the heart 
of the onset ui)on the serried mercenaries of every tyranny, 
the chord of his iron-strung lyre clangs with a martial and 
triumphant cheer." 

Mr. Clark, like William ^Morris, Mv. Howells, and many 
others of our finest contem])orary thinkers, has become an 
ardent social democrat. Perhaps he is not quite so extrenu^ 
in his views as the English i)oet, but I imagine he holds 
oi)inions much the same as those entertained by ^\v. 
Howells, and he is even more aggressive than the Ameri- 
can novelist, which is saying much, when one considers Mr. 
Howells' fine and brave work of recent years, and especially 
his bold satire on present-day injustice, in "A Traveller 
from Altruria." 

In the present paper I wish to group together a few ])oems 
of humanity, written by Mr. Clark since he ])assed his 
sixtieth mile-post. They are timely utterances, ini}>ressing 
the great truth so nobly presented by ^lazzini that '"Life 
is a mission," "Life is duty," and similarly expressed by 
Victor Hugo when he declares that "Life is conscience." 

Mr. Clark is one of the poets of the people, and he clothes 
the eternal veiities of which he speaks in simple and 
effective imagery, sometimes turning to nature, sometimes 
to the Bible, for his figures. Here is a really noble creation, 
a poem well worthy of living in the patriotic heart: 

Freedom's ReiriUr. 

Thp timp has passed for idle rest: 
Columbia, from your shunber rise! 

Replace the shield lu^ion your breast. 
And east the veil from off your eyes. 

And view your torn and stricken fold- 
By proAvliny- wolves made desolate — 

Your honor sold for alien sold 
Bv traitors in your Halls of State. 



54 persons, places auD flOeas. 

Our uiothei's wriug their fettered hands; 

Our sires fall fainting by the way; 
The Lion robs them of their lands, 

The Eagle guards them to betray: 
Shall they who kiU through craft and greed 

Receive a brand less blacli than Cain's? 
Shall paid "procurers" of the deed 

Still revel in their Judas gains V 

O daughter of that matchless Sire, 

Wlio-Jc valor made your name sublime, 
Whose spirit, like a living tire, 

Lights up the battlements of Time,— 
The World's sad Heart, with pleading moan, 

Breaks at yoiu- feet— as breaks the main 
In ceaseless prayer from zone to zone — 

And shall it plead and break in vain ? 

Fling off that golden garb of lace 

That knaves have spun to mask your form, 
And let the lightning from yoxTr face 

Gleam out upon the gathering storm — 
That awful face whose silent look 

Swept o'er the ancient tin-ones of kings, 
And like the bolts of Sinai shook 

The base of old established things. 

The promise of an age to be 

Has touched with gold the mountain mist, 
Its white fleets plow the morning sea. 

Its flags the Morning Star has kissed. 
But still the martyred ones of yore — 

By tyrants to the scaffold led — 
Transfigured now, forevermore, 

Gaze backward from the ages dead. 

And ask: "How long, O Lord! how long 

Shall creeds conceal God's human side, 
And Christ the God be crowned in song 

While Christ the man is crucified? 
How long shall ^lammon's tongue of fraud 

At Freedom's Tropliets wag in sport. 
While chartered nuirder stalks aliroad. 

Approved by Senate, Church and Court?" 

The strife shall not forever last 

'Twixt cunning Wrong and passive Truth— 
The blighting demon of the Fast, 

Chained to the beauteous form of Youth; 
The Truth shall rise, its bonds shall break. 

Its day witli cloudless glory burn. 
The Right with Might from shnnber wake, 

And the dead wrong to dust return. 

The long night wanes; the stars wax dim; 

The Young Day looks through bars of blood; 
The air throbs with the breath of Him 

Whose Pulse was in the Red-Sea flood; 



Hfter Stit^ 13ears» 55 



And tianked by moimtains, right and left, 
Tlie People stand— a donl)tinj4- horde — 

Before them heave the tides uneleft, 
Behind them Hashes Pharaoli's sword. 

But lo! the living God controls, 

And marks the bounds of slavery's night, 
And speaks through all the dauntless souls 

That live, or perish, for the right. 
His face shaU light the People still. 

His Hand shall cut the Sea in twain, 
And sky and wave and mountain thrill 

To Miriam's triumphant strain. 



Mr. Clark is a profoundly religious man, but lie is singu- 
larly free from that dogmatism and ereedal idolatry, that 
narrow and fanatical bigotry and pharisaism which have 
made the church odious to thousands of the finest, truest 
and most religious natures of the century, and which have 
led man}' of the noblest natures to turn from Christianity 
as something hateful and repugnant to that which is truest 
and most profoundly divine in man's nature. He is reli- 
gious, as Jesus was religious, which is not saying that he 
would be welcomed into fashionable conventional churches 
to-day any more than Jesus in His time was welcomed 
among the orthodox religionists of Judaism. 

Here is a fine piece of work which might be termed 

A Voice in the Xiglit. 

I have come, and the world shall be shaken 

Like a reed at the touch of my rod. 
And the kingdoms of Time shall awaken 

To the voice and the summons of God; 
No more through the din of the ages 

Shall warnings and chidings divine. 
From the lips of my prophets and sages. 

Be trampled like pearls before swine. 

Ye have stolen my lands and my cattle; 

Ye have kept back from labor its meed; 
Ye have challenged the outcasts to battle. 

When they plead at your feet in their need; 
And when clamors of hunger grew louder, 

And the multitudes prayed to be fed. 
Ye have answered with prisons or powder 

The cries of your brothers for bread. 

I turn from your altars and arches, 
And the mocking of steeples and domes, 

To join in the long, weary mai'ches 
Of the ones ye have robbed of their homes; 



56 persons, places an& 11&eas» 

I shai-o in tho sorrows and crosses 
Of the naked, the hunt^ry and cold. 

And dearer to me are their losses 
Than your gains and your idols of gold. 

I will wither the might of the spoiler; 

I will laugh at your dungeons and locks; 
The tyrant shall yielil to the toiler. 

And your judges eat grass like the ox; 
For the pr.iyers of tlie poor have ascended 

To be written in lightnings on high. 
And the wails of your captives have l)lended 

With the bolts that must leap from the sky. 

The thrones of your kings shall be shattered 

And the prisoner and serf sliall go free; 
I will harvest from seed that 1 scattered 

On the borders of blue (Talilce; 
For I come not alone, and a stranger — 

Lo! my reapers will sing through the night 
Till the star that stood owr the manger 

Shall cover the world with its light. 



Ill tlie following we have a prophetic picture, and wilb 
the insight of a true prophet Mr. Clark shows that the dan- 
ger of bloodshed and ruin does not lie where the paid hire- 
lings of plutocrac}^ are ever seeking through the capitalistic 
press to make the masses think danger lies; the sui»renie 
menace of liberty no less than of justice lies primarily where 
^Ir. Clark points it out — in the citadel of laidcss and eon- 
scivnee1esi>! icealtti. 

The Fall of New Bahi/lon. 

"Be still, and know that T am OodI" 

This message fell distinct and low 
While wealth, with steel and iron shod. 

Crushed out the cries of want and woe; 
And from the scourged and bleeding throng, 

As if to the end the age-long tryst, 
With eyes rebuking gilded Wrong. 

Shone forth the wondrous face of Christ. 

INIan heeded neither voice nor look— 

For Mammon's vampires asked for blood— 
And what were signs and omens took 

The forms of conflict, flame and flood: 
Tlie tempest down the mountains whi'-ied; 

The lightnings danced among the crags; 
And far below th(> bi-ea leers curled 

And raised on high their battle-flags. 



Htter Sixtp m^VB, 5: 

The ocean's heart wih ansry beats — 

Swayed by the earthquake's tii-ry breath- 
Uplifted cities, troops and tleets " 

And hurled them down to wreck and death; 
Then rose the deatli-vell of the Ohl— 

The old, dark A,i;-e of ruthless .^ain. 
Of crouching thieves and wai-riors bold 

Who slew the just and roltbed the slain. 

For he who led the hordes of Niyht— 

The Monarchs of niaraudinj;- bands- 
Went down before the Sword of Li.ylit 

That Hashed upon the plnmlered lands; 
And stretched upon his niiji'hty bier. 

With broken helmet on his head. 
And hands still clutchiui;- Itrand and spear, 

The King at last lay prone and dead. 

The birds of conquest o'er him swooped 

In battled rage and terror wild; 
The silent Fates around him stooped 

To deck with tlowers their fallen child; 
And where the powers of shore and wave 

Together clashed in border wars, 
AVith systems piled upon his grave. 

They left the meteor-sou of Mars. 

The cruel rule of craft and pelf 

Had vanished like a midnight pall; 
The cold, hard motto. "Each for Self," 

Had melted into "Each for All." 
For every human ear and heart 

Had heard the message, "Peace, be still!" 
And soiight thi'ough Freedom's highest art 

For oneness with the Perfect Will. 

The star of strife had ceased to reign, 

And Venus woke with tender grace 
Between the lids of sky and main 

And smiled upon a nobler race; 
And as a brute foregoes its prize 

And cowers before the gaze of day, 
With backward look from baleful eyes 

The Avolf of Usury slunk away. 

From ocean rim to mountain height 

All Nature sang of glad release; 
The waters danced in wild delight 

And waved a million flags of peace; 
For he wiio hehl the world in th'-all 

Throiigh greed and fraud and power of gold, 
Had seen tlie "writing on the wall." 

And died like Bal)ylon"s King of old. 

When the wealth-prodnoers of the nation learn that the 
welfare of all is more important than the selfish interests 



58 persons, places anD l[&eas. 

of a few petty men who divide industry into warring camps, 
and by the aid of demagogues who secretly serve the gold 
power, prevent the concerted action of (/// wealth-pro- 
ducers; when the toilers come to understand that if they 
unite hut once and speak at the ballot-box, the power of 
plutocracy will be broken and the dawn of a truer democ- 
racy than the world has ever known will become an accom- 
plished fact; when the breadwinners of earth realize that 
the man who urges them not to actively enter poli- 
tics is in reality the most valiant voice that the despot- 
ism of avarice and greed can invoke, then we shall have 
reached a point where the rule of the few will vanish and 
the laws of equal justice will be felt throughout all the rami- 
lications of government. This is the supreme lesson for 
labor to learn. Karl Marx appreciated it, and the most far- 
seeing, single-hearted apostles of humanity since his day 
have insisted upon it. Toilers everywhere, unite — your 
hope lies in union; know^ no creed, party, nation, or race. 
Let humanity be your family, and justice your guiding star. 
The motto of the American Railway Union breathes the 
spirit of this new slogan, and Mr. Clark, quick to appreciate 
its significance, penned these lines suggested by the motto 

''All far One (Did One for Alir 

All for one and one for all. 

With an endless song and sweep, 
So the billows rise and fall 

On the bosom of the deep; 
I.oiider in their single speech, 

More resistless as they roll. 
Broadei'. higher in their reach 

Ftir their union with the whole. 

Wheeling systems sink and rise, 

In one shoreless universe. 
And forever down the skies 

Myriad stars one liymn rehearse; 
Countless worlds salute the sun, 

Planets to each other call, 
Ages into cycles run. 

All for one and one for all. 

Kissed by sunshine, dew and shower, 

Leaping rill and living sod. 
Sea and mountain, tree and flower 

Turn their faces up to God; 
And one human Brotherhood. 

Pulsing through a thousand lands, 
Reaches for one common good 

With its million, million hands. 



Hftcr Sixtp l^ears, 59 

Through all warrlug seas of life 

Cue vast current sunward rolls, 
And within all outward strife, 

Oue eternal Kiglit controls, — 
Right, at whose divine command 

Slaves go free and tyrants fall, 
lu the might of those who stand 

All for oue aud oue for all. 



Legislation is yery largely responsible for the multi-mill- 
ionaires of this republic, while special privileges of some 
kind or another have in almost all instances with w^hich I am 
acquainted been the creators or the chief feeders of the 
colossal fortunes in our midst. It would therefore seem 
very clear that to minify the dangers w^hicli all thoughtful 
people admit to-day threaten the republic through the influ- 
ence of plutocracy, it will be necessary to abolish special 
privilege aud class legislation. This, moreover, is 
demanded by the quickened conscience of the times, because 
it meets the requirements of justice. If government has any 
legislative function it is to foster justice and extend as far as 
possible the prosperity, happiness and advancement of all 
the people, instead of lending its influence to a few in such 
a manner as to enable them to enslave the many. 

Furthermore, if, as can be clearly demonstrated, the gov- 
ernment has by grants and i)rivileges rendered possible the 
acquiring of untold millions by a few of the people who have 
been the beneficiaries of these privileges, it is not so absurd 
or idiotic as the mouthpieces of the government-fostered 
plutocracy would have us believe, to insist that the power 
w^hich has heretofore been exerted by the government for 
the aggrandizement and benefit of the few, be henceforth 
exerted impartially toward all the citizens of the republic, 
and that the enoriiious disparity of fortunes resulting from 
ini(iuitous class legislation and i)artial and therefore 
vicious governmental paternalism be in a measure righted 
by a graduated income tax and a rigid inheritance tax; 
these claims of industry are eminently just, and were it not 
for the tremendous power already exerted by the usurer 
class, they would scarcely be called in question; but the 
gold of wealth is liberally expended to uphold the tyranny 
of capitalism, and there always have been and floubtless 
for many generations to come will be men who will act as 
sophists in upholding injustice and befogging the minds of 
people w^ho have never learned to think independently; 
hence the urgent need of the sincere and conscientious 
prophets, poets and reformers. 



60 persons, places an^ ir^eas. 

The following- poem of Mr. Clark will awaken an echo in 
thousands of the most earnest hearts of our laud who lonj,^ 
to join in the songs of the happy, but who hear so clearly 
the cries of the victims under the wheels that their hearts 
grow heavy and their voices fail to utter a sound in the 
chorus of joy, 

A Sony of the Period. 

"Ob! weave us a bright and ehoerfiil rhyme, 

Of our hand where the tts tree grows," 
Aud the air is sweet iu the New- Year time 

With the breath of the uew-borii rose." 
This message fell while the engine roared 

By the wharf at the city's feet 
Where the white-Avinged birds of trade lay moored 

In a vast, unnumbered Heet. 

It filled my ears as we moved away, 

And the iron Avheels rolled on 
From the noisy town and the sobbing bay 

To the wilds of Oregon.— 
AVhere thi' mountain cloud and the mossy sod 

Are kissiHl by the self-same rills. 
And the torrents beat like tlu' pulse of God 

In the hearts of the ancient hills. 

And I sung of the broad and generous fields 

That were fresh with a promise rare; 
Of the mother-breast that sweetly yields 

All life to the people's jn-ayer. 
But my soul grew sad with a minor tone 

From the souls of the outcast poor 
Wlio l)ei;ged for work— and received a stone — 

As they tramped o'er the lonely moor. 

Then T thought of the land whose faith was sealed 

By the blood of the brave and great. 
Of the strong, fierce bird and the starry shield 

That guarded the halls of state; 
Bnt the Fagle watched o'er the idle ffo](\ 

That was heaped on the rich man's floor. 
A^'hile the gaunt wolf leered at the toiler's fold 

And howled by the poor man's door. 

I cannot join the old-time friends 

Tn their merry games and sports 
While the pleading wail of the poor ascends 

To the Judge of the T"^pper Courts; 
And T cannot r.ing the glad, free songs 

That the world around me sings 
While my fellows move in cringing throngs 

At the beck of the gilded kings. 



Htter SUti^ ]l)ears. 6i 

The scales hauff low from the opeu skies — 

That have weighed them, one and all — 
And the tiery letters gleam and rise 

O'er the feast in the Talace Hall, 
But my lighter lays shall slumber on 

The boughs of the willow tree 
Till the King is slain in Babylon, 

And the captive hosts go free. 

I will close this paper with one of the finest and noblest 
poetic creations which our silver-headed prophet-poet of 
the people has composed since he passed bejond his sixtieth 
year. It is brave, bold and severe, as the articulate voice 
of justice is wont to be, when confrontino- injustice, but 
through it, as thiougli all this poet's writings, we note the 
presence of that abiding faith which is entertained by those 
who believe, nay more, who know that man is fronting the 
dawn, and that eternal justice broods over the world. 

Justice to '"Libert!) EnJiyhteiting the Wurld." 

O Ijiberty! whose searching eyes 

Are fixed upon the distant blue- 
As if to pierce the veil that lies 

Betwixt the Old World and the New— 
"What seekest thou in other climes. 

And isles that gem the salt sea foam? 
What findest thoti of woes and crimes 

That dwell not in thy chosen home? 

Child of the rainbow and the star. 

An^und whose path the whirlwind sings, 
Recall tliine eagles from afar 

And answer to my questionings! 
Call down tliy colors from the clouds 

And nail them o'er the city marts. 
And let tliy beacon cheer the crowds 

Of darkened lives and weary hearts. 

"And what art thou? to question one 

Whose impulse every bosom warms, 
Whi>se eagles soar athwart the sun. 

And rock their young upon the storms; 
And who art thou? to ask me wliy 

I stand ujKin the New World strands 
And bid my eagles outward tiy 

To probe the ills of other lands!" 

Men call me "Love" when— bending down— 

I kiss the tears from sorrow's face. 
And "Mercy" wh(Mi I change the frown 

Of judgment to a smile of grace; 
They call me ".Tustice" when I shift 

The weak man's burdens to the strong. 
Bnt "Vengeance" when my earthquakes lift 

The tidal waves that drown the wrong. 



62 persons, places anD H^eas. 



I fix the headland boimds of Fate 

Against which Error frets in vain; 
I watch by Trutli's eternal gate, 

And balance every loss and gain; 
I hover o'er the Lethean deep 

Where Progress mourns her murdered braves, 
I touch the waters where they sleep. 

And lo! they wake from honored graves. 

The empty boasts of power and pelf 

Like fleeting vapors round me meet; 
The star of destiny itself 

Climbs from the throne to reach my feet; 
The nations poise upon my scales 

Like cloudlets on the midday air; 
I stand erect where Empire fails. 

And wait serene amidst despair. 

"O! thou whose fire-winged word descends 

Like lightning from unclouded zones — 
At whose decree oppression ends. 

And despots tremble on their thrones— 
I l;ow to thy divining life 

AVhich every perfect life fulfils: 
'Sly warring factions cease from strife, 

My thunders die among the hills. 

"Full well I know the deeds of shame 

That nations in my name have done. 
Whose record lingers on my fame 

Like spots upon the morning sun; 
But while my conquering legions stand 

With sabres sheathed and banners furled, 
Pray tell me of my chosen band 

Whose star and torch illume the world." 

I see a land so broad and fair — 

So free from titled lords and kings— 
That all the tribes seek refuge there 

As young birds seek the mother-wings; 
The fig-tree, orange, grain', and palm 

(irow wild upon her southern plains, 
Where summer breezes drift in lialm. 

And blooms caress the winter rains. 
The oceans of the east and west 

Along her borders laugh and roar; 
The mountains sleep upon her breast. 

And vast lakes down her nortJi lines pour. 

I see a nation half in chains; 

The mingled blood of all the earth 
Is surging through her fevered veins. 

And striving for a nobler birth; 
The New World's warp, the Old World's web 

In all her garments come and go. 
While from her life the old taints ebb 

And new ones rush with fiercer flow; 



Hfter Siit^ l^ears. 63 

Her snowy sails, her keels and helms 

Go forth with stores of fruit and bread 
To all the kingdoms, climes, and realms 

■N^'here man is asking to be fed. 

Her star-crowned head proclaims the light 

That seers and poets long have snug. 
Her feet and skirts are wrapped in night 

■\Miere Wrong is old and Ho])i' is young; 
No more the lion treads her coast 

In war's red pomp and force arrayed; 
He leads a far more cruel host 

That plunders by the laws of trade. 

Her soldier band, whose sabre stroke 

Released from bonds four million lives. 
Are bm-dened by a usurer's yoke 

INIore galling than the black man's gyves; 
Though gone the auction block of old.' 

The soul of slavery lingers still; 
The chains are forged of power and gold 

To bind the white serf's brain and will. 

The poor man, robbed of lands he earned, 

Goes wandering homeless o'er the moor; 
And eagles, into vultures tm-ned. 

Stand guard beside the rich man's door; 
The masses move with fettered feet; 

The classes feast on Labor's toil, 
The eagles with the lions meet. 

To gather and divide the spoil. 

I am not blind; I see and feel. 

While Mammon rules the broad domain, 
And stretches forth his hand to steal 

The garnered sheaves of ripened grain. 
I am not deaf, I am not dead. 

Though mercy groans in travail pain. 
While chartered Murder rears its head. 

And children wail for fathers slain. 

No longer shall my arm be stayed. 

No more my trumpet call retreat 
When Truth, by lying lips betrayed. 

Is dragged before the judgment seat; 
The line is crossed, the doom draws nigh; 

Lo! Justice wakes with lifted hand 
To write her mandate in the sky. 

And not upon the shifting saiid. 

"But Justice, listen; and behold; 

My star upon the darkness gleams. 
My upraised torch has not grown cold; 

The \\-orld is moaning in her dreams; 
In dreams of grander conflicts won. 

She yearns for freedom, light and air; 
And can the child of Washington 

Be dumb to her unanswered prayer?" 



G4 persons, places auD 1IC>eas» 

The aj?es cannot pause to wait 

The counter-moves of Manunon's horde, 
While Labor lingers at the gate 

To beg the crumbs from Dives' board; 
The world shall onward, sunward SAving 

Till torch and star are merged in light. 
And all the nations rise and sing 

Their triumph o'er the powers of night. 

I see a mighty feast outspread, 

^\'here gilded Lords their honors wear; 
The banquet king sits at their head; 

The guests are drunk on vintage i-are; 
And far below on every side. 

No more by cringing fear subdued, 
And murmuring like a rising tide, 

I see the countless multitude. 

As rivers to the ocean roll. 

All tongues and races join the throng, 
One purpose burning in each soul, 

And on their lips a single song; 
One common cause, one flag unfurled. 

They kneel to neither king nor cl.'iu; 
Their country is the round, wide ^^()rld, 

Their creed the brotherliood of man. 

The feast goes on; the i)roud rejoice; 

They hear a sound of distant waves; 
They think it but the torrent's voice 

Complaining through the highland caves; 
It is no mountain stream, that leaps 

Rebellious from its rocky bands; 
It is the lifting of the deeps. 

The sinking of the ancient lands. 

Resistless as the pulse of doom. 

The ocean swings from shor(» to shore; 
And frightened kings Hit through the gloom. 

Like stars that fall to rise no more. 
The high sea-walls of caste are gone. 

The pent-up floods their chains have burst, 
The toilers face the golden dawn. 

The first are last, the last are first. 

The Old goes down, the New ascends. 

Its sunny isles in glory rise; 
A rainbow o'er the deluge bends. 

And Labor's curse dissolves and dies; 
The gods of gold no more hold sway, 

The people bow to truth alone, 
And He whose voice the tides obey 

Remains forever with His own. 



(Ibccitcivon=^tbc*=IDcc\ a (Blimpec of an ®lb 
IRoinan Centre of Culture in Great Britain. 



Chester is unique among English cities. Much of its archi- 
tecture reminds one of continental Europe, contrasting in a 
most striking manner with the prosaic modern buildings, while 
the picturesque ruins of once massive Norman edifices attract 
the eye and cause the mind to revert to that sturdy though 
savage ])eople who played so important a part in laying the 
foundation for modern England's glory and supremacy. It is, 
moreover, the only city in Great Britain where tlie traveller 
finds preserved without a break or gap the ancient Avails which 
characterize the strongholds of mediaeval civilization. 

Perhaps nothing will arrest the attention of the stranger at 
first sight so much as the striking contrasts which meet his 
view on every hand. Here the new jostles against the old. 
One sees grim poverty, grime, and squalor, which is the shame 
of modern civilization, almost under the shadow of that concen- 
trated wealth which is the pride and boast of shallow conven- 
tionalism; here tram-cars covered and bedecked with monstrous 
and unsightly advertising boards, which would amaze if they 
did not chagrin the thrifty Yankee pill-maker and soai)-manu- 
facturer, run close beside ancient buildings of curious archi- 
tecture and rich in historic interest; and here also one steps 
from the modern steam launches which ply the River Dee, and 
in half a minute's walk finds himself under the ivy-tapestried 
walls of the venerable ruins of the Church of St. John the Bap- 
tist, or beside the solid masonry of the ancient city walls. 

But perhaps no one finds so much geraiine interest in this 
quaint old town as the student of history, for the story of 
Chester stretches back until it is lost in the mists of tradition, 
and it has been the theatre of so many memorable struggles in 
tlie history of England, that turn where you will, you see ob- 



66 



persons, BMaces an^ lIDeas. 








J^Wip 



BISHOP LLOYD'S HOUSE. SEE PAGE 79. 

tre, in the marches of Englonde, 
towards Wales, betwegne two 
arms of the see, that bee named 
Dee and 3Iersee. Thys cy te in 
tyme of Britons, was hede and 
chj^efe cyte of all Venedocia, 
that is, North Wales. Thys 
cyte in Brytyshe spech bete 
Carthleon, Chestre in Eng- 
lyshe, and Cyte of Legyons 
also. For there laye a wynter 
the legyons that Julius Cezar 
sent for to wyne Irlonde. And 
after, Claudius Cezar sent le- 
gyons out of the cyte for to 
wynn the Islands that be called 
Orcades. Thj^s cyte hath 
plente of lyve land, of corn, 



jects which call up 
the rude freedom of 
the ancient Britons, 
the refined luxur^^ of 
the long vanished 
civilization of the 
Roman era, or the 
tempestuous strug- 
gles of the Middle 
Ages, 

According to tra- 
dition this city was a 
place of importance 
long before the Ro- 
mans made it one of 
the strongest posts 
in ancient Albion. 
In the curious chro- 
nicles of the monk 
Ranulph Iligden, 
published in 1495, 
we find the following 
allusion to Chester in 
quaint old English 
phraseology : 

" The cyte of Le- 
gyons, that is Ches- 




A ROMAN ALTAR FOUND IN EXCAVATION 
IN CHESTER DURING PRESENT CENTURY. 



Gbcstcr*ou*tbe*Bee. 



67 




of flesh, and specy- 

allj'of samon. Thys 

cy te receyveth grate 

marchandyse, and 

sendeth out also. 

Northumbres des- 
troyed tliis cyte 

sonietyme, but El- 

fleda, Lady of Mer- 

cia, bylded it again, 

and made it mouch 

more. 

" In thys cyte ben 

ways under erth, 

with vowtes and 

stone werke, won- 
derfully wrought, 

three chambered 

workes, grete stones 

ingrave with old 

mannes names there- 
in. Thys is that 

cyte that Ethel- 

frede, Kyng of Nor- 

thumberlonde, des- 
troyed, and sloughe 
there fast by nygh 
twothousand monks 
of the mynster of Banger. Thys is the cyte that Kyng Edgar 
came to,^ some tyme, with seven Kyngs that were subject to 
hym." 

The tradition of this worthy monk, however, lacks historical 
confirmation, and it is not until the Roman conquest that we 
have authentic data regarding Chester. Some conception of 
the size and importance of this ])lace after tke famous Twentieth 
Legion had become Avell established on the Dee, may be gained 
from the Roman ruins which excavations of the present century 
have brought to light; among these are the ruins of a Roman 
bath and forum and numerous excellently engraved altars, to- 
gether with fragments of architecture which speak of wealth, 
refinement, and culture, surprising to contemplate when we re- 
member how remote was the wonderful little city from the great 
pulsating heart of Rome. 

History indicates that the dazzling spectacle of the southern 
conquerors, their superior civilization and far-reaching knowl- 
edge, no less than the consideration accorded those of their 



THE OLD STANLEY PALACE. SEE PAGE 



Cbester*on=tbe*IDee. 69 

conquered foes who cheerfully yielded to the foreign yoke, 
together with the order established and justice meted out, cap- 
tivated many of the British chieftains, wlio made haste to form 
as close an alliance as possible with their splendid conquerois, 
adopting the Roman language, customs, and dress, and becom- 
ing practically the willing vassals of Roman authority. For 
almost four centuries the eagles of the Empire were raised aloft 
on British soil, and during this period the Romans on numer- 
ous occasions successfully repulsed the invasions of the fierce 
northern tribes and in various ways protected the British, much 
to their ultimate injury, as succeeding events proved, for the 
British lost that magnificent independence, that sturdiness and 
self-reliance, which had previously made it difticult for even the 
trained legions of the Csesars to overcome them. They came to 
lean as inijdicitly on the strong arm of their conquerors as our 
slaves before the war were wont to look to their masters for 
protection and direction. In a word, they exchanged their 
old-time independent spirit for that of the child or the slave. 

It is always perilous for an individual, a nation, or a race to 
step at a single bound from a savage to a civilized condition ; 
for the law of life is the law of growth, and until the ethical or 
spiritual nature has been in a degree matured, those things which 
come as fruits of evolutionary development are liable to prove of 
irreparable injury; and this sudden transition on the part of the 
Britons, lacking the element of gradual growth which gives 
strength and permanency, offers a melancholy illustration of 
this fact. They became enervated and grew to be servile imi- 
tators of their masters, and after the Romans left Biitain his- 
tory indicates that Romano-Britons rapidly relapsed into semi- 
barbarism without regaining their old-time daring or the 
power of initiative and Teadership. But we have been anticipat- 
ing events. 

Returning to Chester we find that for more than three centuries 
following the arrival of the Twentieth Legion the city grew in 
size andimportance, and had Rome remained healthy or even 
continued to possess to a fair degree the vigor of early days, the 
probabilities are that in time the whole of Great Bi-itain would 
have come under the rule of tlie amalgamated races and the 
civilization of Albion Avould have suffered no eclipse. But fate 
willed it otherwise, and at length the hour came when the can- 
cer of corruption which had long been eating into the vitals of 
the mistress of the world wrought the ruin which generations 
before had been foi-eseen and predicted by the noblest Roman 
philosophers. In a fatal hour the mask of Mars and the mantle 
of Jupiter fell, and lo ! instead of invincible power and incar- 
nate majesty, nothing remained but a decrepit, disease-eaten 




PHCEXIX TOWl 



:r from t 

t'lTNESSED 



■WAS FROM THIS T0W?:R THAT I 
F HIS FORCES AT ROWTON MOOR. 



(Ibester*on*tbc=IDec. 7i 

form, incapal)le of self-government because wanting in moral 
worth, coui-age and self-reliance, and necessitating the sum- 
moning of the Roman legions from remote quarters to Italian 
soil. 

It was a sad day for Britain when the last of the Romans 
quitted her shores, for with the departui-e of the soldiers, the 
iiower of the young Romano-Britons also embarked in quest of 
fame, glory and gold ; while the Picts and Scots immediately 
began their incursions from the North. Very pitiful were the 
petitions of the Britons for succor, but Rome was unable to 
aid them longer, and the memorable plea entitled " The Groans 
of the Britons" failed to bring any material aid from their old- 
time conquerors. In their extremity the terrified and enervated 
sons of Albion turned to the sturdy Jutes for help. The suc- 
cor was readily extended, the invaders were driven back, but 
the allies were as much impressed with the rich heritage of 
Roman civilization as they were struck with the effeminacy of 
the Britons; they determined to become possessors of so goodly 
a land, and brutal conflicts ensued which ended in Anglo-Saxon 
supremacy. 

Chester was one of the spots most coveted l)y the Teutonic 
conquerors, but the Britons defended it with far more spirit 
than was their wont. It was therefore the theatre for many 
bloody conflicts, and in 607, when yEthelfrith marched upon 
Chester, the Britons were defeated in one of the most desperate 
engagements of this bloody period. The battle was fought a 
short distance from the city and is memorable for the slaughter 
of twelve hundred iinarmed monks. The story of this massacre 
is thus graphically described by the historian Gi-een : 

" Hard by the city two thousand monks were gathered in one 
of tiiose vast religious settlements which were characteristic of 
Celtic Christianity, and after a three days' fast a crowd of these 
ascetics followed the British army to the field, ^thelfrith 
watched the wild gestures of the monks as they stood apart from 
the host with arms stretched in prayer, and bade his men slay 
them in the coming fight. 'Bear they arms or no,' said the 
king, ' they war against us when they cry against us to their 
God'; and in the surprise and rout which followed the monks 
were the first to fall." 

Chester was one of the last strongholds of strategic and com- 
mercial importance to fall before the Saxon power, as at a later 
day it was the last English city of consequence to bow to the 
Norman conqueror. 

The Saxons were not long permitted to enjoy in peace the land 
that they had thus ruthlessly seized. The dauntless, strong- 
limbed, red-haired Danes lighted upon England and swept the 



Cbester*on*tbe*H)ee. 



coast upon all sides. These cliildren of Mars and Neptune, who 
were characterized by their ferocity and fearlessness, took pos- 
session of Chester in the year 894. They, however, only held it 
for a shoi-t time. In 907 Ethelred, Earl of Mercia, aided by his 
illustrious wife Ethellleda, 
the daughter of Alfred the 
Great, restored and so en- 
larged the walls of Chester 
that they embraced the 
castle which had hitherto 
stood without the city. This 
indicates that the castle was 
a fortress of inipoi-taiice long 
before the days of Earl Hugh 
Lupus, who rei)aired and 
added to it instead of build- 
ing it as some writers have 
assumed. Ethellleda was a 
woman of great strength of 
mind and executive ability, 
and from the fragmentary 
testimony of the ancient 
chroniclers, who were ever 
loath to exaggerate the 
abilities of women, we are 
led to believe that she in- 
herited many of the noble 
qualities of her illustrious 
father. It appears that, 
largely from her intliience, 
the city regained some of its 
old prestige, and it was not 
until some time after her 
death that it ceased for a 
time to be a Saxon strong- 
hold. 

In the early seventies of 
the tenth century King 
Edgar occupied the city of 
Chester, and his fleet is said 
to have filled the River 
Dee. Edgar, it will be 

remembered, was one of the most powerful of the Saxon 
kings, even winning the title of " King of English and all 
of the nations round about." According to a generally 
accepted tradition eight British kings or chieftains came to 




GOD'S PROVIDENCE HOUSE. SEE PAGE 



74 



persons, places ant) 1[&eas. 



Chester to do Lim homage. During their stay they rowed 
him on the River Dee. Edgar was small of stature, and 
one night after this episode, and while the chieftains were still 
at Edgar's court, one of their numbers, a Scotch king named 
Kenneth, who had drunk somewhat deeply, exclaimed, " How is 
it that all of us, so raan}^ kings as we are, should serve a king 
who is smaller than any of us ? " This gossip was promptly 




A TAUT Ol' THE KUINS OF TUE CUUKCll OF ST. JOHN. 



carried to Edgar, who heard it in silence, but soon afterwards 
requested Kenneth to accompany him to a forest near at hand. 
Arriving, the king produced two swords, and handing them to 
the Scottish chieftain said, " Choose whichever weapon you de- 
sire to use, and let us see which is the better man." Kenneth, 
however, refused to fight, protesting that he spake onl}^ in jest 
and because he was under the influence of wine. 

After the Saxons were overpowered by the Normans, the 
Conqueror created the earldom of Chester and gave it to his 



Cbestcr*ou*tbc=S)ee. 77 

nephew Hugh Lnjnis, who repaired the castle and established a 
court much after the manner of the petty kings of that 
period. 

Many indeed are the interesting happenings connected with 
this quaint old place since the days when William the Conqueror 
triumphantly entered her walls after his terrible march. But the 
most memoi-able historic event connected with Chester did not 
take place until long after the Normans and Saxons had amalga- 
mated and the modern English nation rose as the legitimate result 
of this union. 

When Charles the First and the English Parliament came to 
a direct issue Chester ardently espoused the cause of the king, 
and in the autumn of 1642 Charles was warmly welcomed 
within the city walls. After his departure vigorous work was 
at once inaugurated for offensive and defensive warfare. The 
royal troops under the command of Sir Nicholas Byron were 
loyally supported by the citizens. The walls were strengthened 
and active preparations were begun, looking toward a possible 
siege. In 1643 the city was fiercely assaulted by the Parliamen- 
tary army, but the result proved far more disastrous to the be- 
siegers than the besieged, and from this time until 1645 many 
futile attempts were made to take the city by storm. On the 
twenty-seventh of September King Charles, accompanied by his 
guards, effected an entrance into Chester, where he was enthusi- 
astically received ; but on that same fateful day the king, accom- 
panied by the mayor and other notables, ascended the stairs to 
the summit of what is now called Phoenix Tower, where they 
witnessed the disastrous defeat of the royal forces under Sir 
Marmaduke Langdale at Rowton Heath or Moor. The day fol- 
lowing this bitter disappointment the king succeeded in escaping 
from the city. " If you do not receive relief within eight days 
surrender the garrison," said the king to his faithful otticer on 
departing. Yet it was not until starvation drove the soldiers 
and citizens to eat cats, dogs and horses that they entertained 
the idea of submitting ; not until all hope of succor had van- 
ished — not until they had received the tenth summons to sur- 
render, did the city yield. On the third of February, 1646, 
Chester fell into the hands of the Parliamentary party. 

The terrible sweating sickness on several occasions visited 
this place, proving exceptionally fatal; and during the years 
extending from 1602 to 1605 the plague also devastated the city 
and region round about in a most appalling manner. So great 
were the ravages that the fairs Avere suspended and the courts 
were removed to other ])laces. In those days the visitations 
were thought to be punishments sent by God for the wickedness 
of the city, but we of the present time would exj)lain the cause 



Cbester:=on*tbe:=2)ee. 79 

somewhat differently. The ravages of the plague were evi- 
dently largely the result of the short-sightedness, the ignorance 
and lack of cleanliness on the part of the citizens. Knowledge 
and recognition of the laws of health and sanitation Avould liave 
greatly reduced its fatality. But man is slow to learn, and it is 
only in the school of bitter experience that the most important 
lessons are inculcated. So long as he insists on sitting in dark- 
ness, spurning reason, and revering superstition, he must neces- 
sarily suffer the consequences of his ignorance. 

In the years 1647 and 1648 the plague visited Chester for the 
last time, but during this period a fearful mortality marked its 
presence. More than two thousand died between June and 
April. In this connection I must refer to a quaint building 
which is sure to be pointed out to the visitor. It was first built 
in 1652, and has smce been restored so as to represent exactly the 
original building in all respects. It is called "God's Providence 
House," and bears the inscription in bold letters across the main 
beam, "God's providence is mine inheritance." The natural 
supposition which first occurs to the visitor is tliat this ostenta- 
tious inscription was an outcropping of the canting pharisaism 
which swept over England after the downfall of Charles I; but 
any intimation of this nature is promptly repudiated by the 
natives of Chester, who insist tliat this house was the only resi- 
dence on Watergate Street wliich escaped the ravages of the 
plague during the years 1647 and 1648, and in gratitude for the 
deliverance the owner placed the pious inscription across the 
front of his home. 

Speaking of this unique house reminds me of two other build- 
ings of a qvcisi public character which are of interest to visitors. 
One is the old Stanley Mansion erected in 1591, which is the best 
and oldest specimen of ancient timber houses in Chester. A 
melancholy interest attaches to the history of this building, for it 
was from it that the ill-starred Earl of Derby was led to his exe- 
cution at Bolton. Tlie other house I have in mind is known as 
the Bishop Lloyd Palace, which bears the date of 1615, and is 
adorned with curious carvings representing a number of sub- 
jects which are supposed to be more or less pious, among which 
maybe mentioned Adam and Eve in "sinless nudity," Cain 
killing Abel, Abraham offering up Isaac, some New Testament 
conceptions, together with the coat of arms of King James II 
and that of the worthy bishop. 

These places, however, though curious and worthy of atten- 
tion, are far less interesting than many of the more famous at- 
tractions of Chester, among which are the celebrated " Rows " 
which are unique among shops, and about the origin of which 
there has been no end of controversv. These Rows consist of 



60 persons, places an& ir^eas. 

The following poem of Mr. Clark will awaken an echo in 
thousands of the most earnest hearts of our land who long 
to join in the songs of the happy, but who hear so clearly 
the cries of the victims under the wheels that their hearts 
grow heavy and their voices fail to utter a sound in the 
chorus of joy. 

A SoiKj (,f the Period. 

"Oh! weave us a bright and cheerful rhyiue, 

Of our land '.vhere the tis tvvv .urows." 
And the air is sweet in the New-Year time 

With the breath of the new-born rose." 
This niessajie fell while the engine roared 

By the wharf at the city's feet 
Where the white-winged birds of trade lay moored 

In a vast, imnumbered fleet. 

It filled my ears as we moved away, 

And the iron wheels rolled on 
From the noisy town and the sobbing bav 

To the wilds of Oregon — 
Where the mountain cloud and the mossy sod 

Are kissed l)y the self -same rills. 
And the torrents beat like the pulse of God 

lu the hearts of the ancient hills. 

And I sung of the broad and generous fields 

That wei-e fresh with a promise rare; 
Of the mother-breast that sweetly yields 

All life to the people's prayer. 
But my soul grew sad with a minor tone 

From the souls of the outcast poor 
Who begged for work — and received a stone — 

As they tramped o'er the lonely moor. 

Tlieii I thought of the land whose faith was sealed 

By the blood of the brave and great. 
Of the strong, fierce bird and the starry shiehl 

That guarded the halls of state; 
Brt the Eagle watched o'er the idle geld 

That was heaped on the rich man's tioor, 
AYhHe the gaunt wolf leered at the toiler's fold 

And howled by the poor man's dooi-. 

I cannot join the old-time friends 

Tu their iiKM-ry games and sports 
While the ph^ading wad of the poor ascends 

To the .Judge of the I'p))er Courts; 
And I cannot r.ing the glad, free songs 

That tlie world around me sings 
While mv fellows move in cringing throngs 

At the beck of the gilded kings. 



after Sixt^ l^ears, 53 

considering. By changing the word Whit fir)' to ihis poet 
in the following we have a more graphic and concise char- 
acterization of James G. Clark than it would be possible for 
me to give : 
'"He has not put his talent out at ])rofitable interest by cater- 
ing totheinsolentandphaiisaicalself-esteeniof the tinies,no5' 
has he hidden it in the damask of historical common])laces, 
or a philanthropy too nniviMsal to concern itself wilh par- 
ticular wrongs, the jiractical redressing of which is all that 
renders philanthropy of value. Most poets are content to 
follow the s])irit of their age as pigeons follow a leaking 
grain cart, picking a. kernel here and there out of the dry 
dust of the past. Not so with [this poet]. From the heart 
of the onset upon the serried mercenaries of every tyranny, 
the chord of his iron-strung lyre clangs with a martial and 
trium})hant cheer." 

Mr. (Mark, like William Morris, Mr. Howells, and many 
others of our finest contemi)orary thinkers, has become an 
ardent social democrat. rerha]»s he is not quite so extreme 
in his views as the English poet, but I imagine he holds 
opinions much the same as those entertained by ^Ir. 
Howells, and he is even more aggressive than th(^ Anieii- 
can novelist, which is saying much, when one considers Mr. 
Howells' fine and brave work of recent years, and es]>ecially 
his bold satire on i)resent-day injustice, in "A Traveller 
from Altruria." 

In the ]»resent ])aper I wish to group together a few poems 
of humanity, written by ^Ir. Clark since he passed his 
sixtieth mile-post. They are timely utterances, imi)ressing 
the great truth so nobly presented by Mazzini that '"Life 
is a mission," "Life is duty," and similarly expressed by 
Victor Hugo when he declares that "Life is conscience." 

Mr. Clark is one of the poets of the people, and he clothes 
the eternal verities of which he s])eaks in simple and 
effective imagery, sometimes turning to nature, sometimes 
to the Bible, for his figures. H(M-e is a really noble creation, 
a poem well worthy of living in the i)atriotic heart: 

Frredoni'fi Rfrrillc. 

The timo hns pnssod for Mle rest: 

Columbia, from your shuuber rise! 
Replace the shield upou your breast. 

Aud cast the veil from off your eyes. 
And view your torn and stricken fold — 

Py ni'owlinp- wolves made (^esolate — 
Your honor sold for alien gold 

Ey traitors in your Halls of State. 



82 persons, places anC> UDeas. 

fee afforded him pleasure. This old gentleman looked like one 
accustomed to play the part of a heavy tragedian in a melodrama. 
He had apparently become so thoroughly en rcqyport with the 
cause of the ill-starred king that no saint could have awakened in 
his mind profounder feelings of love and reverence than the 
English ruler whose life in prosperity Avas as disappointing, to 
say the least, as his demeanor in adversity was calculated to 
soften the criticism which his pi'osperous years would seem to merit. 

Leaving the tower and continuing our walk, we soon reach a 
picturesque spot of special interest a little beyond the beaten 
path which would be taken by those only interested in " doing " 
the city in the shortest possible time. I refer to the ancient 
water-tower, erected when the tidal waters of the Dee flow^ed up 
to the city walls. Here in olden times ships were made secure 
to great rings and bolts fastened in the massive walls of this 
tower. Pausing here for a moment to note the silver and green 
of the river basin and the lowlands once covered with water, one 
is reminded that for centuries in the long vanished past Chester 
Avas the principal commercial seaport of North England.* And 
as a well known author has recently pointed out, that which de- 
stroyed Chester's commercial supremacy made Liverpool, for it 
was not until the upheaving of the estuary of the Dee, accom- 
panied by the submergence of the forest of Leasow and the 
hollowing out of the great Mersey harbor, that Chester became 
practically an inland town and the commercial star of Liverpool rose. 

Leaving the old water-tower we soon find ourselves walking 
along that part of the wall which affords an excellent view of 
that" wonderful piece of masonry known as the Grosvenor's 
Bridge, consisting of a single arch two hundred feet in length 
and forty feet high. This is said to be the longest single stone 
arch in Europe with the exception of a bridge on the Danube ; it 
is certainly a marvel of beauty and skill, and the view from this 
point of the wall is surpassingly beautiful. 

Continuing our walk we soon reach the famous castle of 
Chester just within the city walls. This building is very notice- 
able owing to the style of architecture suggesting ancient Greece 
and Rome ; it contrasts boldly with the imposing Norman ruins, 
the unique architecture of the shopping district, and the hope- 
lessly prosaic modern buildings which one finds on every hand. 
Probably the most interesting feature connected with the castle 
is the old tower. Here, the inhabitants of Chester never fail to 
tell you. King James the Second received the sacrament during 
his stay in the city. But its walls have mtnessed things which 
most of our readers would regard as of vastly more importance 
than this fact, which I mention simply to illustrate how firmly the 

* See Encyclopreclia Britannica, ninth edition. 



Cbe5ter*on*tbe*Dee. 83 

"divine-right " iilea seems to hold a place in the mind of the 
average Englishman. 

Turning from the castle and continuing our walk along the 
walls, we soon find ourselves opjDOsite the raj)ids or falls "of the 
little river, which for centuries have turned the wheels for the 
celebrated mills of the Dee. The mills are to-day, however, 
rather unsightly buildings, with their numerous broken window- 
panes and general air of dilapidation. 

I shall never forget the emotion I experienced on one evening 
in August, 1894, when standing on this old wall overlooking the 
Dee. The sun was sinking behind the hills, giving a peculiar 
though transient brilliancy to the marvellously beautiful land- 
scape, and lighting up A\dth unusual splendor the few fugitive 
clouds which floated in the sk3% A shower had passed about 
two hours before, leaving the air fresh and redolent wdth the odors 
of trees and flowers. In the distance were the hills of Wales; 
from below came the rushing sound of the rapids of the Dee, 
while behind rose the din of the city, now dying away as night 
stole softly on. The scene was one never to be forgotten, and 
as I stood upon the solid Avails viewing the ancient thoroughfare 
which had been hewn out of solid rock by the Roman soldiers at 
a time when Christianity was still young, my mind reverted to 
the past and I thought of the march of time and the strange 
vicissitudes of life, and a panorama of events passed before me 
which I shall never forget. 

Upon the banks of this wonderfully beautiful river and proba- 
bly on the very site of Chester the ancient Britons lived their 
rude and careless life. Here the Roman eagles were planted and 
a military camp was established which grew into a city, while the 
soldiers of the Empire made this sjjot their home and wedded 
British maidens. Here were built a forum, a public bath, and 
doubtless temples to the deities of the Tiber ; in short, the glory 
of Roman civilization was reproduced in miniature. 

Then the scene changed, and I beheld the flower of Chester's 
manhood departing for im]ierilled Rome. The bitterness of 
that parting was a precursor of a gloomy time for women, maid- 
ens and children. I saw the star of Briton sink and the suprem- 
acy of the Saxons established even in Chester. Then came the 
savage Danes, those sons of war and water, who seized the city 
but were shortly after driven from her walls. I saw the noble 
daughter of Alfred the Great holding her court in the castle, 
flushed with love and victory, and listening with swelling breast 
to the rude songs of valiant deeds. 

The scene again shifted, and now it was the Saxon sun which 
was setting, and I noted the widowed queen of Harold seeking 
a refuge in this town, which proved to be the last Saxon city to 



84 persons, places auD HDcas. 

yield to tlie Conqueror. I saw tlie Normans come and a new 
civilization rise on the ruins of British, Roman, and Saxon do- 
minion. I recalled the fact that at the court of the earls of 
Chester life was lived in much the same careless way that char- 
acterizes the very rich of our time, although there was less of 
artificiality on the one hand, while on the other ignorance and 
serfdom enveloped the masses. 

I remembered that it was here in 1399 that Richard II. was 
brought captive on his fatal journey to the tower of London, 
and here also Charles the First had witnessed the defeat of his 
forces less than four years before his execution. I saw the 
misery of the jDeople during the years of the sweating sickness, 
which, however, paled into insignificance before the plague 
which visited Chester at later periods. I marked the maich of 
humanity with the onward current of the years, the fitful rise of 
races, and their fatal falls through failure to grasp and assimilate 
the supreme lesson of lessons, which alone holds the secret of 
enduring civilization, and which is summed up in that mngic 
trinity. Freedom, Fraternity and Justice; and I thought how 
slow of heart is man to learn the august truth noted above and 
which is epitomized in the golden rule. Yet this is the lesson 
Avhich this city no less than all history teaches. All civilization 
will decay and fall until man comes to himself sufticiently to 
appreciate the fact that any foundation save that of spiritual 
supremacy will sooner or later prove shifting sands; all endur- 
ing progress must be grounded on high ethical truths. 
Never befoie had this thought come home to me with such 
compelling force as at this solemn moment. I saw more clearly 
than ever ])efore that any nation or civilization which yields to 
selfism and permits the lower to gain supremacy over the 
higher, which turns a deaf ear to the demands of fundamental 
justice, which ignores the spirit of human brotherhood, and allows 
the canker of egoism to corrui)t laws and public opinion, Avill 
sooner or later go out in darkness. This is the story which is 
told by the decay of Roman civilization; indeed, it is tiie capital 
lesson of all historj^ no less than it is tlie cardinal truth incul- 
cated by true religion and philosophy. Might may conquer for 
a day. Money may pollute and corrupt and thereby turn aside 
justice for a time, but right alone possesses the element of per- 
sistency, and never until man recognizes justice and altruism as 
the foundation upon which civilization must be built, will 
progress be permanent or happiness become a heritage of 
humanity. 

These thoughts reminded me of the sadder and more tragic side 
of life in Chester, for this city is no exception in this respect to 
other similarly populous centres of life in Europe and America. 
In fact it seemed to me that there was here an unusually large 



(Ibester*on*tf3e*Dee. 85 

percentage of persons who were eager to obtain the priirUege of 
earning a few pennies. Here as elsewhere, witliout doubt, 
poverty is greatly aggravated by the liquor traffic. I have 
seldom seen a city where there seemed so many "inns," "cel- 
lars," and "vaults," names designating places where liquor may 
be bought, as here; and some of these designating titles were 
peculiarly suggestive ; as for example, 1 noticed on one occasion in 
bold letters the " Raven Vaults " as a title for what we would term 
in this country a saloon. The sight of that name instantly arrested 
ray attention as it seemed so appropriate ; I remembered the 
raven was popularly considered the " bird of ill omen." It is 
associated with the idea of misfortune, of misery, and of darkness; 
as the word "vaults" is strikingly suggestive of the final resting- 
place of the dead. Ill-fortune, misery, and death — such were 
symbolized by the name of this saloon ; and I thought how ap- 
propriate would be such a designation for all places where man 
is debased and debauched by strong drink. In justice to Chester, 
however, I would say that during my stay of over two weeks 
I saw comparatively little drunkenness in spite of the great 
number of saloons. The reason, I think, is to be found in the 
fact that malted drinks rather than stronger liquors are chiefly 
consumed. The long rows of homes of the poor, filling many 
streets, are characterized as a rule by stone floors Mhich are 
usually kept scrupulously clean. Another thing I noticed which 
impressed me with mingled pleasure and pain was the number 
of flowers seen on all sides. People who had no giound in 
which to plant their seeds, had their windows filled with com- 
mon flowers, showing the presence of the innate love of the 
beautiful. It made me heartsick to think that the divine im- 
pulse, that intei-ior love of the artistic, should have so little to 
feed upon in the narrow confines of wretched streets. 

I Ijclieve, however, that a better day is at hand for hnmanity. 
There may be hours of darkness before us, but surel}^ we are in 
the midst of a transition period, and to-day carries greater 
2:)ossibilities for mankind than any previous birth-eia, for we 
are on a higher rung of the spiral ladder, and education is more 
diffused. Hence I do not despair. I see the horrid inequality 
and injustice ; I feel the wrong endured by the people ; but I 
know that the forces of light are working with us, and if we do our 
duty the day will soon dawn, not for Chester or England alone, 
but for the woi-ld. " I have faith in freedom and good," wrote 
John Bright during the darkest hours of our Civil War, and so 
I feel to-da3^ The future is with us, and I believe that before a 
generation has passed the greatest emancipation proclamation 
of which man lias yet dreamed, will be issued. It is to this end 
that all men and women of the new time must consecrate their 
hisT^hest and noblest endeavors. 



strolls IBc^on^ tbe Malls of Cbcstcr; witb 
Glimpses of tbe (Tountrv^ Scat of tbc E)uIk^ of 
Mcstintnstcr ant) tbc Iboinc of m. jE» 6lat)*= 
stone. 



I. The Dior/enes of the Dee. 

On the iiioiniiig of the l22d of August, 1894, our little 
party strolled along the banks of the Dee toward the old city 
wall. We had left behind us the ruins of the church of St. 
John the Baptist and the beautiful Grosvenor l*ark with its 
velvet-like carjjet of emerald and its exceptionally luxuriant 
shrubbery. Owing to the fact that it was somewhat cloudy, 
we were debating whether it would be wise to take one of 
the steam launches for our long contemplated visit to the 
country seat of the Duke of Westminster, when a weather- 
beaten boatuian im})ortuned us to take a sail upon the 
river. "It will be a tine morning to visit Eaton Hall," he 
urged in the broad accent of the English laboring man, "and 
it will be helping me if you will let me take you there." 

1 will not attempt to repeat either here or on the folloAving 
pages the language, nor to imitate the quaint phraseology of 
this striking individual who clearly was guileless of any 
extensive acquaintance with the English grammar, but who 
was, nevertheless, a remarkable man. He was an earnest 
and thoughtful reader and an independent thinker, and I 
should say in many respects an excellent type of the sturdy 
yeomanry who so largely represent the strength of England. 
I afterwards learned he had saved more than a score of 
lives from accidental drowning in the treacherous waters of 
the Dee; he had also rescued several persons who, under the 
influence of drink, or crushed by adversity, sought the sui- 
cide's end in the still hours of the night. He was strong 
limbed; his face was bronzed with sun and wind — his coun- 
tenance was open and bore a sturdy expression. He must 
have been fifty years of age, but was far stronger to all 



strolls BeponD tbe Malls of Cbester. 87 

appearances tlian are many pampered sons of wealth at 
Thirty-five. Still, his bowed shoulders and the deep wrinkles 
together with a certain sadness or gravity which seemed to 
grace his resolute brow, indicated that his lot in life had 
been by no means easy, and that much anxiety and care 
had been mingled in his cup of life. He was quite talkative, 
very much of a cynic at times, but frequently his remarks 
were exceedingly thoughtful, and more than once he re- 
flected in a striking manner ideas which 1 had heard ex- 
pressed with less perspicuity by toilers with whom I had 
chanced to fall into conversation in Dover, London and 
Liverpool. His outlook on life and public matters, though 
frankly given in quaint and homely speech, evinced much 
of the philosopher, and was so strikingly opposite to the 
views held by the owner of Eaton Hall, that I jotted down 
much that passed between us, and will preface my descrip- 
tion of the palatial country seat of the Duke of West- 
minister with some of the observations made by our Di- 
ogenes of the Dee. 

After pointing out many places of interest on the banks 
of the river, something was said of Judge Hughes, the emi- 
nent English author and his experiment at Rugby, Ten- 
nessee. The judge is a resident of Chester, and our philoso- 
pher seemed to regard him highly. 

"He is considerable of a man," he said, "and that is more 
than can be said of a good many who pride themselves in 
the possession of titles and wealth." 

"We are from America," 1 observed, "and you know we do 
not care for titles as you do over here, but I would like to 
know your opinion of the Duke." 

The old man eyed me narrowly a moment and it seemed 
to me that an incredulous smile played for an instant 
around his lips at my reference to our contempt for titles. 
I felt there was a remark upon his lips which might have 
called to mind the exorbitant prices recently paid by many 
daughters of our "mushroom aristocracy" for broken-down 
lords, dukes and princes, rich only in empty titles, but I 
fancy his native shrewdness checked him from making a 
remark which might possibly offend us. 

After a moment's reflection he said, "The present Duke 
is entirely unlike his father, who was very generous and 
did more for Chester than any person within my recollec- 
tion. You have seen his statue in Grosvenor Park?" We 
assented. "Well then you know something of the kind of 
looking man he was; no one could ever mistake him for his 
coachman; but the present Duke [and here our philosopher 



strolls Bei^onb the Malls of Gbester. 89 

shook bis head sadlv] is ven* different; lie does not look at 
all like a man of quality." 

I observed that looks were sometimes deceptive. 

"I know," he replied, "but this is not one of those cases. 
He is close, he never ^ives Chester anything to speak of, 
he seems to think chielly of himself and his pleasure, al- 
though he is anxious to be regarded as a philanthropist. 
They say lie has tlie largest rental income from London 
property of any man in England; I don't remember the 
exact figures, but I have them at home, and it is almost too 
big to believe." 

"I have noticed it stated that the Duke is very generous 
and that he gives all fees from visitors to the palace to 
charitable institutions," I observed. 

"Now there is a case in point," said our cynic. "You see 
the Duke is very proud of his i)alace; it is one of the finest in 
England if not in Euroi)e, and he wants visitors from every- 
where to see it; that satisfies his vanity just as the vanity of 
other men is satisfied in other ways. But, by charging, for 
charity's sake, a shilling to see the palace and a shilling to 
go through the gardens and conservatories, he is able to 
turn over about five hundred ])Ounds a year to the Chester 
Infirmary. Rhyl Convalescent Home and other like institu- 
tions. This is heralded far and near as an example of the 
Duke's generosity, and he is enabled to pose as a philan- 
thropist, while unthinking peo])le who work and suffer that 
such men as the Duke may s])end their time in luxurious 
ease and idleness in London, Scotland and elsewhere, read 
these accounts of his charity and are ready to throw up their 
hats and shout their praises; but that is only because they 
don't think," continued our philosopher in a slow and em- 
phatic tone. "But," he added earnestly, ''there are 
more and more working men in England every month who 
are learning to reason for themselves, and they say, and 
rightly say that we don't w^ant the crumbs that fall from 
these rich' men's tables any longer. We are tired of crawl- 
ing on our hands and knees for the bones and crumbs after 
we ourselves have supplied the materials for the feast. 
They say 'give us justice and not charity,' and you are from 
America so you can understand how they feel. They say 
that the Duke does not earn his vast income ; he don't even 
go to the trouble of collectino- it. London is increasing the 
value of his property all the time, and without his working 
he is ennbled to rean vast fortunes earned by others, while 
those who rent his nronerty often have to work hard days 
and stay awake nights worrying the life out of them to 



strolls Bcvon& tbe Malls of Cbester. ©i 

make ends meet and pay their rents. They have to cut 
down the wa^es of their employees to almost starvation 
point and their employees have to skimp and twist and turn 
and live a dog's life to live at all. Now why should the 
workers bear the burdens while society is all the time mak- 
ing this property more valuable and the man who has never 
done anything lives in ease and luxury oft" of it? That is 
not justice, and the people have a right to demand justice. 
Now I don't mean to say the Duke is worse than many 
other landlords, and think from what I read and hear that 
he is better than a great many of the money-lending class 
who are oppressing the people, but the whole system is 
wrong because it is not just and it is not according to the 
Scriptures, at least that is what these people say." 

"From my point of view I think they are right." I replied. 

"Do you think so? I am glad to hear you say that, for I 
agree with them too." 

From this time on our philosopher was very free in his 
criticism. 

"You spoke just now of the principles being unscriptural," 
I began. 

"Does not the Book say, 'If any will not work neither shall 
he eat'; now what does that imply?" he quickly interposed. 

"Yes, but that was not the point I had in mind. I wish 
to know the attitude of the clergy on the great social and 
political problems." 

The cynic shrugged his shoulders significantly. "I belong 
to the church," he answered, "but I have not attended service 
for a long time, because I found out that from the bishops 
dow^n, tine bonnets and good coats count for more than the 
heads and hearts of the people. Our clergymen are think- 
ing a good deal more about having an easy time or gaining 
popularity and having their names appear in the great 
papers, coupled with fair words, than they are concerned 
about the poor and the starving in their midst." 

"That is undoubtedly true in a large number of cases," 
T re])lied, "but there are many clergymen who are very 
difl'erent." 

"There may be enough exceptions to prove the rule I 
have given, but I doubt if there would be any to spare,'' 
promptly exclaimed the cynic in homely terms and vigor- 
ous tones. "Why, there are fifty- three thousand* members 
of the clergy in (Ireat Britain, not counting the dissenting 
ministers. Now if the INIaster should come as He came of 

*TVipsp fitnires are those of onr pliilosoplier. and T liave not been able to verify his 
statement, so simply give the number as he gave it to us. 



strolls JSci^onb tbe Malls ot Cbester. 93 

old and He should go to the fishing towns and manufactur- 
ing cities of England and search out the poor and suffering; 
if He should mingle with them and give words of cheer to 
those of our time who correspond to those who were the pub- 
licans and sinners of His day, and at the same time should 
claim that He was the Lord and simply point to His life, 
teachings and works as proof of His assertions, do you think 
there would be any rusn of bishops in England to follow 
Him? No sir, I can tell you that if they followed Him it 
would be to testify in court against Him just as the Thari- 
sees and chief priests did of old." 

"I think you are correct in your conclusions," I assented. 
"The cry would be made by the clergy and the press to-day, 
as it was by conventional society and orthodox leaders in 
Jesus' time, thiit He was a wine bibber and a friend of 
publicans and sinners, or in a word, di.srcpiitahJe, not only 
unworthy of confidence but one who was an impostor mak- 
ing impious claims and, being a teacher of things that were 
fundamentally at variance with the existing social order, 
He should be summarily dealt with in order that society 
might be protected." 

"That is exactly it," exclaimed our philosopher, "and His 
very works would be denounced as imposition upon the 
ignorant, His motives would be judged and condemned, and 
not only the clergy and the courts, but the press and those 
of the masses who do not tJiiul', would join in the cry to dis- 
credit or destroy Him, just as the Jews did of old. T have 
often said this," continued the old man, "after I have heard 
our rectors preaching against the Jews for crucifying Jesus, 
while they carefully avoided anything in favor of justice 
here and iwn\" 

"There is too much dealing with generalities, too much 
skilful fighting shy of all remedies of a fundamental charac- 
ter in and out of the church the world over," I said, "but 
have you not found the dissenters more hospitable to the 
cause of the poor?" 

I shall never forget the look of contempt which appeared 
upon the bronzed face of the old man as he shrugged his 
shoulders in his characteristic way and replied, "I never 
attend chapeh but from what I hear they are all berries off 
of the same bush when it comes to handling these questions; 
they are not anxious to imitate the Master; it would not be 
safe. No, I never go to chapel." 

This was a striking illustration of the power of religious 
prejudice over a man who prided himself upon his independ- 
ence of thought and freedom from the trammels of conven- 



StvoUs :SBc\:on^ tbc malls of Cbcsret. 95 

tionalisui. His look, toDe and moveineut, far more than 
his words, conveyed the scorn and contempt he felt for the 
dissenters, and 1 could easily understand how little it would 
take to fan the hanie of religious prejudice in such as he, 
until reason and justice would count tor naught. The old 
gentleman soon reverted to Eaton Hall and the family of 
the Duke, wdiose ancestors he meantime reminded us, origi- 
nally aided the Conqueror in robbing the rightful owners of 
their land. 

"The property of the Earl of Chester was stolen property 
in the beginning, and the fortune of the Uuke of West- 
minster is largely the result of laws which have been passed 
favoring classes. You see," he continued, "these men don't 
earn the money they get; they don't even hdi) earn it. At 
some time in their lives they come into possession of prop- 
erty which their fathers never earned, and which laws help 
them to increase, and they gain certain rights which also 
aid them, bnt their possessions are not the result of their 
earnings, while a large part of their wealth comes from poor 
men and women and children who are compelled to live 
such lives as the moneyed classes would not dream of having 
their dogs or horses live. Now you know that is not right, 
that is not just, and it is not according to the teachings of 
the Master." 

Clearly I thought our philosopher was not a Tory, wiiich 
suggested to mv niind the fact that within a few^ miles of 
Chester lived William E. (Iladstone, the idol of the Liberals. 

"You have one man living near Chester of whom I suppose 
you all feel ])roud." 

The philosopher looked up inquiringly. "Gladstone," 
replied one of our party. Again I noticed the characteris- 
tic shrug of the shoulders and something akin to contempt 
on his face as he replied, "According to my way of thinking, 
and there are a good many ])eople who agree with me, Glad- 
stone is the most overrated man in England. He is more 
of a politician than a statesman. He has been on both sides 
of nearly every great question that has come up in his time. 
Does that look like statesmanship?" 

"A sincere man will often change his mind and all great 
and worthy men will grow, as they advance in life, so as to 
see problems in a broader and nobler light than they at first 
conceived them," I replied. "If a man is always true to the 
fundamental ideals of justice and fraternity, always on the 
side of the oppressed, in seeking to relieve tlieir suffering by 
insisting on the carrying out of the Golden Rule as a law in 
o-overnment no less than betw^een man and man, he is to be 



96 persons, places auo llDeas. 

respected, however mistaken he may be at times. It is 
treason to humanity and justice and a disregard to pledges 
and the sacrifice of fundamental denumds of justice to expe- 
diency or policy which are reprehensible in statecraft and 
which deserve our censure. Now does not Mr. Gladstone 
stand for humanity and progress? is not his pulse always 
beating with the heart of justice?" I continued. 

"No," he replied most decisively, "that is just the trouble 
with Gladstone; the votes to be won by appealing to the pop- 
ular and selfish interests of short-siglited Englishmen have 
led him to disregard the very things which you say are the 
essentials of a statesman. Look for instance at his attitude 
during your civil war, when John Bright stood for the 
cause of freedom; where did Mr. Gladstone stand? Now 1 
do not believe that Mr. Gladstone would admit for a moment 
that he believed that African, or any other kind of slavery, 
was right, but it was deemed politic to appeal to the selfi^^h 
interests of Englishmen in sympathy with the great cotton 
states, and Gladstone did this; but was it the stand which a 
statesman would have taken? 

"I could mention several other instances," he added, 
becoming (piite earnest as he continu(Hl: "It is true he is 
always foremost in denouncing inhumanity and cruelty if 
it is in some foreign country, and there is no danger of his 
I>arty losing by such a stand, but that is not the test of a 
man's true greatness as I see it. No man knows better than 
Gladstone the real injustice suffered by the working 
classes of England to-day, and no one ])rofesses to be moie 
in sympathy with them; but his party has come under the 
control of the landlords and the moneyed classes, and there- 
fore he will not chami»ion any great reform of a radical 
character which would olfend the moneyed classes to whom 
the Liberals, no less than the Tories, look for support in 
carrying elections. I used to be a Liberal, but they have 
I>ledged reform to the working men too many times, and 
then when the real masters object to anything of a funda- 
mental character they make a flourish of trumpets and fire 
blank cartridges, but are very careful to do nothing; this 
])leases their masters and deceives the peo]>le who do not 
think. The fact is, as T see it, the Liberal ])arty is more 
anxious to i)lease the rich than the Tories are just at pres- 
ent." 

"You think that the Libci'als have been ca]»tured by the 
landlords and lendlords of England, and being a party 
founded on democratic ideals and the ancient enemv of 
enthroned conservatism and wealth, thev are regarded with 



strolls Be\?on& tbe Malls of dbester. 

■■1 •' 



97 




:,."n. (ir.AnsToxK axd his littlt. r.RA>— iDArr.nTri; TiniMim i.kkw. 

more suspi<i()n l)y the new masters than are the Tories^ 
whose principh's are anti-democratic and wiiose long fealty 
to the rich and titled classes frees them from suspicion 
which rests on the Liberals," I replied. 

"That is exactly it," returned our philosopher; ''they feel 
that they must out-Herod Herod to satisfy the rich, and on 
many points they are less liberal than the Tories. Now T 
don't know that T am in favor of Woman's Suffrage," he con 



98 persons, places auD lIDeas. 

tinned, '"but take that as an example. Lord Salisbury is 
far more favorable to it than Gladstone, although one would 
naturally expect the Liberal leader to champion the right of 
fi anchise for women, and there are many ollun' things which 
1 might name in which the Liberals are more conservative 
on questions which look toward extending the freedom and 
bettering the condition of the people, which are being more 
strenuously opposed b^^ the Liberals than the Tories. The 
Liberal party, it seems to me, is very much like Dickens' 
Uriah Heep in its attitude toward the moneyed classes. 
Its very action suggests Uriah's favorite phrase, 'I am very 
'unible.' " 

"Well," I said, "Gladstone took a brave stand for Ire- 
land." 

"And there again he counted the cost," interposed our 
cynic. "Look at his past record on that question. Parnell 
was able to convince him that his little band was indis] ten- 
sable to Liberal supremacy; a bargain was struck, and had 
all gone well with rarnell, the programme might have suc- 
ceeded, but as a matter of fact I do not think (Jladstone has 
sliown true statesmanship in handling the Tiish question; 
a middle course it seems to me, would have been the wisest 
at the present time at least. Mr. Gladstone favors alto- 
gether too much for the safety and security of England 
wlien we remember the geographical position of Ireland. 
Indeed, here again he considered the success of his party 
rother than the real interest of England or Ireland in the 
bargain which he struck with Parnell. Xow if he had 
shown anything like this zeal in carrying out measures of 
permanent value in order to secure justice to English work- 
ing men and tenants he would, it is true, have oltV'uded the 
moneyed classes no doubt, but he would have acted the part 
of a true statesman and a wise humanitarian, and even 
though he might have suffered defeat for a time, Liberalism 
would have gained more permanent supremacy in England 
in the long run. xVt least, that is the way we look at it, and 
do you know there are tens of thousands of voters all over 
this country who no longer take their ideas from the clergy, 
the big papers, or the politicians; they are thinking for 
themselves, and you mark my words, at the next general 
election the Liberal party will be overthrown. I don't ex- 
pect the Tories will do much better, but it is necessary that 
the Liberals be rebuked. The working people," he contin- 
ued, ''are talking among themselves and doing a great deal 
of thinking. There are a great many things being w^ritten 
which don't appear in the papers, and w^hich the public don't 




l.i(C. 



100 persons, places auD 1It)eas. 

take iuto account, but some day all this educatioual work, 
which is uuikiug meu think for themselves as never before, 
will tell, and the world no less than En<iland will be sur- 
prised at the result; but here we are at the landing. I will 
remain until jou return; don't hurry." 

We stepped from the boat and turned our faces toward 
Eaton Hall. From remarks dropped, which space forbids 
my giving-, it was evident that our cynical philosopher had 
been reading much of the literature of social democracy. 
He gave us an approximate number of the abandoned farms, 
ogether with the views of writers of considerable reputa- 
ion, showing that the shortsighted course of England in 
permitting the money-lending classes to dictate her policy 
had reacted on the poor at home, as well as the creditor 
nations abroad, and that even the landlords were now suffer- 
ing in consequence. From the views expressed by others, 
in various parts of England, no less than his own 
statement of the number of those who believed as 
he did, I became deeply impressed with the c(;nviction that 
there was a tremendous undercurrent of discontent in Eng- 
land. Tens of thousands have lost faith in the politicians 
and the partisan press of to-day. They are reading a vast 
amount of literature favoring social democracy, and I be- 
lieve that while the pendulum will possibly move backward 
and forward for a time between Liberalism and Toryism 
yet in England unless there arises, at an early date, 
some statesman with the sagacity of Sir Eobert IVel, to 
meet the impending crisis as he met the Corn Law agitation, 
some startling changes will take place in this island before 
a generation passes, 

IT. The Country Seat of tJie Dul'e of Westminster. 

The roadway to Eaton Hall led through a broad expanse 
of sparsely wooded laud beautifully carpeted with velvety 
grass. A large number of deer were feeding near the road, 
but took no notice of passing visitors; they seemed as 
tame as sheep in our ]»astures, Some idea of the extent of 
the Duke's domain may be gained when it is i-emembered 
that the park in which the palace of Eaton Hall is situated 
is eight by twelve miles in area. 

We first entered the gardens; a scene of beauty never to 
be forgotten opened before us. The extensive conserva- 
tories were marvellous in their color effects, and although 
the air was tropical and heavy with mingled perfumes we 
were tempted to linger some time in the midst of the artifi- 
cially tropical region in which the prodigality of nature 



strolls :Beix^u& tbe Malls of (Ibesteto '-Oi 

in her color effects was so conspicuous. One of oui- parly 
observed that if a quantity of the dowers which were taumg, 
were cut and daily sent to the side in and out t»f the iiospitais 
at Chester and thereabouts, the cost would be small, while 
numbers of hearts and homes would be brightened and 
subtly refined. The great fruit conservatories were also 
interesting; here peaches, plums and pears, no less tluin 
grapes, were trained as vines along great walls and loadinl 
with their luscious products. 

"The Duke must enjoy the flowers and fruit," I suggested 
to a gardener. 

"He is not here much of the time to enjoy them," was 
the reijly; "at present he is in Scotland, but he lives in Lon- 
don, and is here but a few months in the year." 

Thinking how much the weary invalids, not four miles 
distant, would enjoy the luscious peaches and gra])es which 
were hanging <ui these vines, we turned into the palace, 
which I will not attemjtt to describe at length, contenting 
myself with brief descriptions of some typical rooms. 

Eaton Hall is a noble edifice, displaying in a most striking 
mnnner what the resources of modern art can do when great 
wealth is at command. The duke is said to be the richest 
nobleman in England. He has certainly expended vast 
sums in the most lavish manner on this magnificent country 
seat. Probably one of the most striking rooms of the ])al- 
ace is the Grand Saloon. This apartment, which in reality 
is an extension of the great central hall, presents a most 
in)])osing prospect from every side, impressing the visitor 
with the scale of grandeur which pervades the interior of 
the building no less than the charm of nature, heightened 
by the cunning hand of art, which is api)reciated the mo- 
ment one looks out of the great windows of the saloon. A 
striking feature of the intei-ior decoration is H. Stacy 
Mark's panoramic ])aintings of (Muiucer's "Canterbury Pil- 
grims." The strength of this work lies in the marked indi- 
viduality of the characters represented rather than in its 
color effects, which indeed seemed to me to be indifferent; 
the artist, however, has achieved a real trium]ih in the life- 
like qualitites which characterize the numerous individuals 
represented. The vaulted ceiling of the room will attract 
the attention of the visitor whether or not he feels, as T did, 
that it was somewhat out of harmony with the other decora- 
tions in the room. It is treated nftor nn East Indian dosisn, 
the centre being a representation of the sun surrounded by 
stars, all treated in gold on nn azure baclcground. The 
mantel-piece in this apartment is especially rich and effect- 



102 persons, places au^ 11&eas. 

ive; but of ail the show rooms of the pahice, the oue which 
impressed me as being the most harmonious in treatment 
as it was also the most attractive, was the library. This 
great hall, which is ninety-two feet in length and thirty feet 
in width, is richly furnished and contains more than twelve 
thousand volumes. Two immense mantel-pieces are noble 
specimens of tine wood-work and are in perfect keeping 
with the general treatment of the room, which throughout 
is rich and delightfully harmonious. A very interesting 
decorative feature is found in five large historical paintings 
by Benjamin ^^'est, among the most interesting of which are 
Oliver Cromwell Dissolving the Long Parliament, Charles 
II Landing in Dover, and The Death of General Wolfe on 
the Heights of Abraham. In this connection I would men- 
tion among the art treasures of Eaton Hall, several life- 
size portraits of the Grosvenor family executed by some of 
the most eminent portrait painters, including ^^ir John 
Millais — there are also some pictures attributed to Rubens. 

Before leaving the palace we paused for the second time 
within the Chapel; here, as elsewhere, we were impressed 
with the lavish ex])enditure of money. The lofty tower of 
this chapel is fully one hundred and seventy-five feet in 
height; it contains a chime consisting of twenty-eight bells, 
the largest weighing two and a half tons. The interior of 
the edifice is very impressive with its handsome stained- 
glass windows through which the sunlight was Hooding the 
rich furnishings from the many colored panes. 

As 1 stood there I was reminded of some remarks made by 
our philosopher al)out Jesus, and I wondered how the lowly 
]S'azarene,in whose honor this edifice was ostensibly erected, 
would have felt had He been there fresh from London, 
where without a place to lay His head He had shared the lot 
of thousands of out-of-works who niglitly sleep on the stone 
embankment along the Thames. I knew, judging from 
the life He lived in Palestine, that had he stood in the aisles 
of this magnificent chapel. His serene brow would have 
borne a look of mingled sorrow and indignation. I fancied 
He would have felt something of the unutterable sadness 
which He experienced when he wei»t over Jerusalem, and 
something of the withering indignation which marked His 
speech when He uttered His terrible "woes" against those 
"who devour widow's homes and for a pretence make long 
prayers." 

III. Hawarden on a Fete Day. 

During our stay in Chester w'c visited Hawarden, the 
home of William E. Gladstone, the man whom I believe 



strolls JBevouD tbe Malls of Cbester. 103 

'to be the most ardently loved and the most thoroughly 
feared aud disliked amoug the statesiueii of Englaud. Ha- 
warden is six miles east of Chester across the borders of 
Wales, and the visitor who takes a cab or the tram-car 
passes through one of those horrible little towns which are 
given over to mining or manufacturing, so frequently en- 
countered in England. The sight of the bare, dirty houses 
and the barren aspect of things on every side cannot fail to 
cast a gloom over the mind. I remember that the oppres- 
sion occasioned by the sight of this town spoiled to a great 
degree the enjoyment we would otherwise have derived 
from the beautiful scenery which lay beyond, especially the 
Welsh hills, clothed in that purple haze, 'the charm of which 
may be felt but can never be described, which rose in the 
distance. The village of Hawardeu was gorgeously arrayi.^d 
in holiday attire in honor of the fete at Hawarden manor- 
house, and throngs were constantly arriving from remote 
parts of England, reminding one of pilgrims visiting the 
shrine of a saint. To obtain a glimpse of the face of the 
"Grand Old Man" seemed to be a "consummation devoutlv 
wished," and if perchance the visitor might hear his voice, 
that indeed would be something for him to dwell upon when 
he reached home and narrated again aud again to his wife, 
his children and the more or less envious neighbors, the 
story of this great event in his sombre life. The ardent 
admiration entertained l)y thousands of visitors, no less than 
the enthusiasm everywhere manifested by the inhabitants 
of Hawarden, contrasted most boldly with the opinions ex- 
pressed by our Diogenes of the Dee.' 

Tlie wonderful magnetic power exerted by the remarka- 
ble nian who has played so important a part in the drama of 
English politics, reminded me of the enthusiasm which 
marked the cam])aign when :Mr. lilaine ran for the i.resi- 
dency. I remember that while the press of ]Massachusetts 
was anything but enthusiastic in his support, he received 
such an ovation when he spoke in Boston as few men have 
ever enjoyed. Henry Clay was another great figure in 
American politics who awakened the same intense enthu- 
siasm on the part of the masses which Mr. Blaine exerted, 
during the aggressive i»eriod of his career, and which Mr. 
Gladstone has long wielded throughout England. I know 
of no living statesman who calls forth anything like the 
same degree of admiration, confidence and love of his 
partisans as does Mr. Gladstone. This intense lovalty, 
which in cases almost amounts to blind devotion, always 
begets bitter enmity. The Tories of England make a very 
black indictment when they enumerate the real or supposed 



1*^^ persons, places aiiO fl^eas. 

shortcomings of the idol of the Liberals, while the Social 
Democrats, who have come out largely from the Gladstone 
party, aud which I think are rapidly growing in numbers 
even though they lack as yet the power which comes witii 
union and leadership, regard him in various degrees of dis- 
favor, ranging all the way from sincere regret that he can 
not or will not see the necessity for fundamental social 
changes, to open contempt, no less marked or intense than 
that expressed by the most ultra Tories. 

On the da}' we visited Haw^ardeu the vast multitude which 
was assembled was not only rewarded by seeing Mr. (ilad- 
stone but their joy was increased by hearing him deliver a 
brief address, and the cup of joy was filled to overtlowiiig 
when little Dorothy Drew, the petted granddaughter of the 
great statesman, appeared before them waving her handker- 
chief in response to their thunderous applause. I regret 
that it was impossible for us to see the aged statesman 
owing to the illness of one of our party. 

Ha warden, like Chester, has a wonderful history. It was 
a Saxon stronghold l)efore the Norman conquest, and was 
ceded to Hugh Lupus after the creation of the earldom of 
Chester. Situated almost on the border between England 
and Wales, it has been the scene of many exciting and 
important episodes in the annals of English history, Tn 
104.5 Charles I found temporary refuge liere after his flight 
from Chester, but the cnstle afterwards fell into the hands 
of the I^arliamentary forces and was subsequently almost 
destroyed. From the })resent ruins, which date back to the 
thirteenth century, one obtains a fine view of the Dee valley. 
For a period of two hundred years Hawarden belonged to 
the famous Stanley family, but subsequently it was pur- 
chased by (^hief Justice Glynn, and in 1874 passed into the 
family of Mr. Gladstone. 

The old castle is less interesting, perhaps, than the pres- 
ent mansion where resides the eminent Liberal leader. The 
great library of Mr. Gladstone consists of more than ten 
thousand volumes, and is free to the residents of Hawarden, 
who have merely to register their names and the dates when 
they borrow the volumes. A large orphanage, liberally 
supported by Mrs. Gladstone, is found a short distance 
from the mansion, and speaks of the warm heart of that 
most estimable lady. The park in which the castle and 
modern mansion are situated is exceedingly beautiful, and 
contrasts strongly with the home environments of the vot«^rs 
who go to make up the bone and sinew of the Liberal party 
of Encland. 

That Mr. Gladstone has failed to irrasp the real meaning 



strolls Bc\?ou^ tbc Malls of Cbester, los 

and sii;iiitieance of the social discontent of our times, I think 
is iHKjuestionablj true; that he has failed to rise to the 
hei<;hts which would have enabled him to see the rising of 
the new social order which must replace the present as 
surely as centralized government supplanted feudalism, is 
in my judgment equally obvious. That his position on many 
questions, as woman's enfranchisement for example, is 
distinctly opposed to the onward current of the best thought 
of our age is clearly apparent; but that in spite of his short- 
comings his is a manly and noble figure, we must in justice 
concede, and be our views what they may in regard to Mr. 
Gladstone as a statesman, the ]>ersonal and Inmie life of the 
man challenges the sincere admiration of all lovers of sturdi- 
ness and comjtarative siiuplicity, in an age when those in 
elevated stations are living a life permeated with artificial- 
ity and where too many of our reputed great men are vying 
with each other in wanton luxury and selfish indulgence. 



Mlntcr 2)a\)0 in 3^ori^a or (Bltinpscs of Xtfe 
In tbc Xan^ of tbe flDagnolia, tbe ©range anb 
tbc palnu 



I am writing by an open window overlooking the Halifax 
River. On the opposite bank, somewhat to the left, is Daytona, 
while on the right is the picturesque hamlet of Holly Hill, 
both in full view. It is the 8th of March, and the weather is 
ideal; a delightful breeze has been blowing since daybreak; 
the air is soft and balmy as that of a June morning in the North. 

At eight o'clock this morning a small tiotilla, consisting of two 
modest-sized steamboats, two naphtha launches and a sail-boat, 
passed my window. They came from Daytona and were bound 
for a -j^icturesque little fresh-water stream some distance north, 
which bears the quaint Indian name of Tomoka. The merry 
shouts and rollicksome laughter which came from the excursion- 
ists indicated that the multitudinous cares, anxieties and sorrows 
which shadow life had been banished for a few hours, and that 
pleasure and the beauties of nature were to be enjoyed with that 
wholesome abandon which is seen only when man escapes from 
the thraldom of conventionalism and draws near to Nature. 

As these little vessels, freighted with human loves, hopes and 
desires, passed from view, I involuntarily thought of that long- 
departed day when canoes, carrying the careless children of 
another I'ace, passed to and fro over the slow-moving Halifax ; 
when the stalwart red man trod the sands by the sea, fished in 
the ocean and the river, gathered wild fruit, and hunted game in 
the forests. I thought of that distant day, now about four cen- 
turies removed, when excited warriors brought strange stories 
of tbe coming of wonderful men from over the sea, whose faces 
were white, whose clothing was gay as the flowers which car- 
peted the forests, and who claimed to be messengers of the 







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Minter Ba\^6 in 3flon&a. 109 

Great Spirit. Doubtless some who heard these wonder stories 
shook their heads and laughed derisively, for human nature is 
the same in all ages. Others there were who, wishing to probe 
the mystery, were impatient to march northward in search of 
the strangers, who, if found, were to be interrogated, that they 
might know whether the god-men came as friends or foes. 
There were lovers then as now upon the banks of the Halifax 
River; and I doubt not that many an Indian maiden heard the 
strange rumor with mingled wonder and apprehension, followed 
by an oppressive, nameless dread, for woman's mind is ever 
more intuitive than man's. But gone are the hopes and fears of 
this people. And to-day only a small remnant of the race that 
hunted and fought over the Hower-decked sands of Floridaremains. 
The laughter and song of the old joyous times come to us as the 
perfume of their legends, and little more than tradition and 
story are left,* coupled with the quaint and oftentimes musical 
names which they gave to rivers, inlets and streams. 

The Halifax River is in reality a tide- water lagoon of half a 
mile in width. Into its waters empty many fresh- water streams 
which are exceedingly beautiful. The Tomoka, to which I have 
alluded, is perhaps the most popular. Its channel is sufficienth^ 
deep to permit boats to run several miles up its narrow, serpen- 
tine course. At a picturesque landing a few miles from its 
mouth a large, delightful log-cabin, with an immense old- 
fashioned fireplace, has been built in the midst of a wild scene 
of tropical tangle-wood — almost a jungle. Here picnic parties 
may be seen almost daily in an abandon of natural enjoyment. 
Staid men of business and women of brilliancy and culture for- 
get the solemn dicta of conventionality and become boys and 
girls again for a few brief hours. It is im])ossible for pen or 
camera to do justice to the beauties of the Tomoka. And yet 
this stream is only one of many equally picturesque though less 
navigable which empty their fresh waters into the salty Halifax. 

Since the day Ponce de Leon landed in quest of the Fountain 
of Youth, Spain, France, England and the Republic of the West 
have claimed, occupied, fought for, or sought by purchase to ob- 
tain this home of the magnolia, the orange and the palm. And 
yet there are probably few places which at first sight are so dis- 
appointing to tourists as Florida. The absence of the closely 
knit grass sod of the North, and the omnipresent sand, impress 
the stranger very unfavorably. 

*A few only of Seminole Indians remain. They dwell chiefly in the extreme 
southern part of the inhabitable region of Florida. They are divided into small 
bands of a few scores in number, the small remnants of once mighty tribes. 
These bands are presided over by chiefs as in olden days, and the title in some 
cases seems to be handed down from father to son. Thus, one band is to-day ruled 
by Tallahassee, another acknowledges Tiger Tails, while the son of this chief is 
designated Little Tiger Tails. Sometimes they seem to borrow appellations from the 
white nian which are more realistic and characteristic than romantic ; thus one of 
the chiefs bears the name of Billy Bowlegs. 





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minter Bavs in flori^a. in 

The winter of 1895 will long be remembered as a most disas- 
trous season to the Floridans, no less than it has proved disap- 
pointing to Northern tourists. The frosts, being the most severe 
known for over half a centur}', have Avrought havoc not only 
with the more tropical fruits, but with all trees belonging to the 
citron family, and many other less tropical plants have suffered 
severely. The ever ])resent groves of oranges, grape-fruit, limes, 
lemons and citrons, guiltless of leaf, flower or fruit, tell a tragic 
story of loss and ruin to patient, unremitting industry ; while for 
the tourist the state without the beauty of the orange trees, in 
their glory of leaf, flower and fruit, is shorn of one of its chief 
attractions. 

On previous visits to Florida my most southern points were 
St. Augustine and Palatka. This winter I came to Daytona and 
the Halifax Peninsula. Here the destruction wrought by the 
frost is everywhere discernible, but it has failed to rob this 
region of its beauty. The tall palmetto, the gaunt live-oak, 
draped in southern moss, the bay, magnolia and pine, together 
with numerous evergreens, shrubs and underbrush, clothe the 
earth in green, and with the soft and balmy atmosphere make 
one unconscious that it is yet winter, and would enable us to 
forget the frosts of the past few months, were we not continually 
reminded of them by the bare branches of the orange, lemon and 
lime trees, and the guava, oleander and many other shrubs. 

Half a mile from where I am writing the waves of the ocean 
are beating against the most magniflcent beach it has been 
my fortune to see. This morning I spent some time upon its 
warm white sands. There were enough clouds floating in the 
sky to prevent the sun from being unpleasant. A number of men 
and Avomen were revelling in the delights of sea-bathing in water 
warmed by the Gulf Stream. 

The ocean ever exerts a strange, undefinable, fascinating influ- 
ence over my mind. I never tire of watching its ever changing 
aspects or listening to its soft crooning, its impressive murmur- 
ing, its solemn warning, its mad threatening and its measureless 
fury. To-day, after enjoying the pleasure of the sea-bathers, I 
seated myself upon the sand and yielded to the fascinating spell of 
the ocean, and as the lights and shadows fell upon the waves I was 
reminded of Victor Hugo's descrii)tion of the sea, when an exile 
on the coast of Guernsey, and I felt the kinship of soul and the 
subtle relation of man to nature as those flne descriptive lines 
came into my mind in which the poet speaks of the ocean, " with 
its ebb and tiood, the inexorable going and coming, the noise of 
all the winds, the blackness and translucency peculiar to the 
deep ; the democracy of the clouds in full hurricane ; the won- 
derful star risings, reflected in mysterious agitation by millions 



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Minter IDa^s in jflonba. 119 

of luminous Avave-tops — confused heads of the multitudinous 
sea — the prodigious sobbings, the half-seen monsters, the nights 
of darkness broken by bowlings ; then the charm, the mildness, 
the gay white sails, the songs amid the uproar, the mists rising 
from the shore, the deep blue of sky and water, the useful as- 
perity, the bitter savor which keeps the woi-ld wholesome, the 
harsh salt without Avhich all would putrefy ; that all-in-one, un- 
foreseen, and changeless; the vast marvel of inexhaustibly vai-ied 
monotony." I know of no finer characterization of the varying 
moods of the ocean than these graphic lines ; and if one is seated 
upon the beach or in view of the sea their full force comes home 
to the brain in an indescribably vivid manner. 

The beach, which extends along the Halifax Peninsula in one 
unbroken stretch for over twenty miles, is destined to be one of 
the most famous in the Western World, It is one long, contin- 
uous slope of smooth, white sand, so firmly packed by the incom- 
ing and outgoing waves that along the lower slopes it is almost 
as firm as an asphalt pavement, and thus affords unsurpassed 
facilities for driving and bicycling. At high tide, and especially 
after the sea has been rough, numerous many-tinted shells, from 
the nautilus and conch to the tiny sea clams, whose many tinted 
protecting cases are not unlike two petals of a dahlia's blossom, are 
strewn along the line which marks the water's highest limit; but 
below, the sand is smooth and firm. Early dawn, the reflected 
glory of the sunsets, the moonlight effects, and the mystery which 
ever seems a part of the darkness of the deep are never-ending 
sources of pure delight to all artistic natures. I have seen 
nothing which equalled the splendor of the ocean and sky at 
such times, except at Ostend on the North Sea. 

But, while speaking of sunsets, I cannot forbear mentioning 
the gorgeous panoramas which I have witnessed almost nightly 
on the Halifax River. Here in the foreground we have the tall 
palmettos, so thoroughly tropical in their appearance, and the 
gaunt live-oaks, draped in southern moss, very beautiful, but pre- 
senting a somewhat weird appearance. Beyond lies the river, 
smooth as glass and half a mile in width, and on the further 
side the forests of palmetto, oak, pine and other trees, inter- 
spersed with villas, and behind that the flame of the setting sun, 
varied from time to time with marvellous cloud effects ; the 
Avonderful reflections in the water, iridescent and luminous, re- 
vealing various shades of russet and gold, scarlet and crimson, 
silver and blue, — all combine to make scenes of beauty so 
entirely transcending words that in their presence one desires 
silence, that the mind may yield to the exquisite pleasure and 
feel the mystic spell of the divine, inspired by these matchless 
symphonies of color. 



^ 



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L-.™-<JR//i 



Miutcr iDavs in 3flont)a. 123 

The sea-beach opiiosite Halifax, and due east of Daytona, 
affords delightful bathing all the year round. I noticed through 
February that the waters Avhich are warmed by the Gulf Stream 
were of a delightful temperature, far warmer than I have known 
the Atlantic even in midsunnner on the Massachusetts coast; 
and many persons availed themselves of the opportunities for 
surf-bathing. But this is an all-the-year-round beach; it is rap- 
idly becoming the most pojiular summer resort for Floridans of 
means. For at Halifax, Sea Breeze and Silver Beach, which 
extend along the Peninsula opposite Daytona, not only is the 
bathing all that could be desired, but the breezes from the ocean 
and the river keep the atmosphere deUghtfully tempered in summer 
and render the nights invariably cool and refreshing. This is the 
universal testimony of all who have summered here. 

A very interesting colony of liberal-minded thinkers is being 
established at Halifax, under the direct auspices of Helen Wil- 
man Post, the well-known leader of the evolutionary school of 
metaphysical thinkers; Mr. C. C. Post, the able author of 
" Driven from Sea to Sea," " Congressman Swanson," and other 
thoughtful social and economic studies ; and Mr. C. A. Ballough, 
a fine large-hearted nature, whose sincerity and frankness are only 
equalled by liis passion for justice. These people are building 
what will probably some day be known as the " City Beautiful," 
with broad avenues and boulevards, made hard Avith shells, 
grassed on either side and lined with palmettos and other sub- 
tropical trees. The exjjeriment is unique, and will, I believe, re- 
sult in bringing to this wonderfully favored spot many men and 
women of culture and refinement, whose taste and means will 
further beautify the place, which is inviting in summer and winter 
alike, and upon which nature has bestowed so much in the way 
of beauty and attractiveness. 

Daytona lies one mile from the ocean, on the west bank of the 
Halifax. It is reached from the beach by fine shell driveways 
which cross the half mile of the Peninsula, and two bridges which 
span the river. Of Daytona it is ditticult to say too much when 
describing the beauty of the place. I have never seen a town 
of like size which impressed me as being so beautiful. Its 
houses, for the most part, evince excellent taste. They are 
modern, and are kept well-painted and in first-class repair. In 
these respects it contrasts most favorably with the majority of 
Southern towns; and its streets and some of the roads lead- 
ing from the town are made of marl or shells and consequently 
are smooth and hard. A strip of land grassed and carpeted w'ith 
wild flowers extends between the street- way and the sidewalk, and 
along these are planted palms, live-oaks, magnolia and other ever- 
green trees. I know of no boulevai-d more bewitchingly beauti- 



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THE I'ALMETTO IN BLOSSOM. 



miutcr iDa^3 in iflori^a. 127 

ful than Ridgewood Avenue in Daytona, with its great live-oaks, 
heavily draped in Southern moss, its palmettos, magnolias and 
other varieties of semi-tropical trees, which form a deeply shaded 
vista, while on either side are beautiful and well-kept homes. 
Volusia Avenue, and indeed all the streets excepting Beach, 
where at present extensive improvements are being made on the 
water front, are models of neatness and as beautiful as they are 
striking to the Northern eye, unaccustomed to tropical vege- 
tation. 

Before closing this paper I must say a Avord about the flow- 
ers and fruits for which F'lorida is justly noted. The varieties 
of flowering trees and shrubs, as magnolia, orange, palmetto 
and oleander, are very numerous, and though the sands of this 
state are unfriendly to most kinds of grasses, it can truthfully 
be said that they favor the multitudinous flowers of many colors 
and gorgeous hues which flourish in wood and field. On the 
Halifax "Peninsula the chief fruits have been the orange, lime, 
lemon, grape-fruit, citrons, kumquat, guava, mulberry, Japanese 
plums, strawberries, mulberries, peaches, pears and grapes. 
Some pineapples and bananas are also raised here, but these 
flourish better further south, where are found in abundance the 
cocoanut and bread-fruit. 

Florida has been frequently termed the Italy of America. I 
do not think the points of resemblance are suflicient to warrant 
the appellation. Both lands are peninsulas, extending south- 
ward; each can lay claim to a mild and genial chmate, pro- 
tected from the severity of the northern blasts, and tempered in 
summer by the ocean breezes; each can boast of being the home 
of the citron family and other semi-tropical fruits ; but when we 
come to note the points of difference between the peninsula 
Avhich has so largely moulded our present civilization and our 
own Land of P^iowers, I think we shall find far more instances 
in which they are radically unlike than those in which there is 
any substantial likeness. Yet each holds charms peculiar to it- 
self, and, with regard to Florida, I think it is safe to say that 
in spite of her recent disaster her star is rising. 

I will close this sketch with a charming little poem written 
by Mr. C. C. Post and entitled 

M00XL1(4HT ox THE HALIFAX. 

Night on the river. The moon rides hij^h. 
The sea-breeze aa liispers. tlie pine trees sigh, 

The reeds on tlie river banks are aquiver. 
And the clouds :ire lilve dreams in the mooidit sl^y. 
A girdle of diamonds in silver set. 
Crossed and 'broidered with bands of jet. 
From the other shore where the palm-trees stand 
Is clasped at my feet by the shining sand. 




E OBAKGE KLOSSOM. 




M 



■ifii/ 



^■€- . ^^jj. 



;s OF FLORIDA. MAGNOLIA BU 



130 ipersons, places an^ fl^eas. 



Ami over the waters of silver and jet. 
And between the banks Avhere the palm-trees ris 
Float other clouds, like the clouds in the skies- 
Float white-winged boats with their light sails set. 
And lovers clasp hands 'neath the white sails set. 
And loves are told, and a beautiful dream 
Of life atloat on love's beautiful stream 
Is dreamed, as they sail through the silver and jet. 

And I say it is well that the moon rides high; 
Well that fleecy clouds fleck the moonlit sky; 
That the river is banded, with diamonds set. 
End)ossed and embroidered in silver and jet; 
Well that tall palms on its banks arise; 
Well that the pine tree whispers and sighs; 
Tliat the tide lifts up, with its furtherest reach, 
Its lijts. to the shells on the shining beach; 
Tliat lovers, afloat on its waters, seem 
Forever afloat on love's beautifid stream— 
And 'tis Aveli that I sit by the river and dream. 



1Rclu3iou5 thought In Colonial S)av^6 as flDir** 
rorc^ in poeti\> anb Song, 



The transition of religious thought from the austere 
severity of the Reformation and the unquestioning ac- 
ceptance of papal authority, which marked a still earlier 
period, to the broad and truly catholic principles of moral 
government enunciated in the Sermon on the Mount, is 
becoming more and more pronounced Avith the passage of 
each succeeding decade. But so gradual has been the drift- 
ing that a vast majority of thoughtful peo2)le within the 
pales of the Church are scarcely conscious of the change ; 
much less do they appreciate how surely the still small voice 
from the nameless mount in Galilee is overpowering the 
thunderous tones of Niccca in Bithynia, which for more 
than fifteen centuries have controlled Christendom. Indeed, 
this grand transformation is being accomplished so naturally 
and so steadily that it is only at intervals, when some 
great divine in a popular church dares to think aloud, and 
voice that which is felt in the inmost soul of thoughtful 
people, that a ripple is caused on the placid water — a ripple 
which extends from mind to mind in an ever-broadening 
circle ; as, for example, when so eminent a churchman as 
Canon Farrar declares in favor of restoration ; a master 
brain like Professor Briggs announces that man may find 
God through the Bible, the Churchy or through Reason; 
when a leading divine like Dr. Lyman Abbott pronounces in 
favor of Evolution ; or yet, again, when a great church like 
the Methodist, after a severe battle for the infallibility of 
New Testament inspiration, relegates the Pauline injunction 
respecting women to its proper place among the dead and 
outgrown ideas of ancient Grecian thougiit. At such inter- 
vals as these, religious circles are for a time more or less 
convulsed; but a few years vanish, and the disturbers are 
canonized. iNIeanwhile humanity continues a steady, unin- 
terrupted ascent. 



132 persons, places auD UDeas. 

The spiiitual growth of our jjeople remincb nie of a trav- 
eller, j Mirneying from the sea toward some lofty mountain 
range ; for mau}^ miles the ascent is so gradual that he is 
unconscious of any material rise. After passing a few low 
hill ranges he is aroused to the fact that he is rising materi- 
ally above the wave-washed lowlands. It is not, however, 
until he turns toward the sea, and casts a glance into the 
far distance, that the fact that the ocean is many thousands 
of feet below him, dawns on his mind. In like manner, so 
gradual, so natural, so irresistible have been the complex and 
multitudinous causes which have lifted Christian thought to 
a higher and diviner plane that it is only by examining 
ancient landmarks that we can fully appreciate the progress 
which has been made. Perhaps nothing will better illustrate 
this fact than poetry and hymnology of the past, and no 
spot affords a more striking illustration of this evolution of 
Christian thought than New England. The hymns which 
were sung with great fervor and feeling two hundred years 
ago, and the poetry which found greatest favor with the 
stern. Puritanical spirit of that age, thrills the average 
Christian of to-day with horror; and it is difficult for him 
to believe that any considerable number of persons ever 
believed that at the helm of the universe stood a Being 
so relentlessly despotic, so cruelly savage as the God our 
fathers most devoutly worshipped and in whom they had 
most implicit faith. Poems exceedingly popular among 
ultra-religionists two centuries ago, would be branded impious 
and sacrilegious by almost all Christians to-day, as will be 
readily seen when we examine some specimens of the poetry 
and sacred songs which were not only current but exceed- 
ingly po[)ular. 

One of the most famous clergymen who flourished in 
Massachusetts in the latter half of the seventeenth century 
was Eev. Michael Wiggles worth, a graduate of Harvaid 
University and the author of numerous widely read theolog- 
ical works in prose and poetry. His most celebrated poetical 
work was entitled " The Day of Doom," "■ a poem of the 
last judgment." The first edition of thi^ work consisted 
of eighteen hundred copies, which wa« exhausted within 
a year of its publication ; something very remarkable when 
it is remembered that books were rare in those days, 
and New England was sparsely settled. The first edition. 



TRelioious ITbouoFDt in Colonial H)a^s, i33 

however, was only sufficient to whet the appetites of our 
colonial fathers. The work reflected perfectly the con- 
ception which a very large number of devout people enter- 
tained of God ; hence edition after edition was quickly sold. 
Not less than nine editions of this work were sold in New 
England in early times. It was also twice republished in 
England. From a commercial point of view it was the most 
remarkable success in the history of colonial literature, as it 
is stated that, next to the Bible and the almanac, more copies 
of "The Day of Doom" were sold than of any other work 
in colonial times. This success must have rested chiefly on 
the popularity of the thought contained, as, aside from weird 
poetic flashes now and then present, the literary quality of 
the work is far below mediocrity. The book was bound in 
sheep exactly like the binding employed for Bibles and 
hymn-books of the period. Each page bore marginal notes, 
giving the passages of Scripture which suggested the scene 
described. With these facts in mind, let us examine some 
verses from the poem. In the opening lines Mr. Wiggles- 
worth describes the Judgment Day : — 

Before his throne a trump is blown, 

Proclaiming the day of doom: 
Forthwith he cries, " Ye dead arise, 

And unto the judgment come." 
'No sooner said, but 'tis obeyed; 

Sepulchres opened are : 
Dead bodies all rise at his call, 

And's mighty power declare. 

The saved are then judged, or rather their salvation is thus 
described : — 

My sheep draw near, your sentence hear, which is to you no dread, 
Who clearly now discern, and know your sins are pardoned. 
'Twas meet that ye should judged be, that so the world may spy 
No cause of grudge, when as I judge and deal impartially. 
Know therefore all, both great and small, the ground and reason why 
These men do stand at my right hand, and look so cheerfully. 
These men be those my Father chose before the world's foundation, 
And to me gave, that I should save from death and condemnation. 

The elect having thus been disposed of, Jesus turns to 
those who were not of the company chosen for Him by God 
before " the world's foundation." After dealing with various 
classes of sinners in a manner which might well excite the 
envy of an Oriental despot whose heart had long been steeled 



134 persons, places ant> 1I^eas. 

against all the divine emotions, Christ proceeds to judge 
those Avhose lives had been pure, holy, honest and upright, 
but whose greatness of soul had rendered it impossible for 
them to grovel before a God represented by His most zealous 
followers as infinitely more brutal and cruel than the worst 
man born of woman. The scene described is characteristic of 
the thought of the age, and when reading it one ceases to 
wonder that witches Avere hung in Salem, or that Roger 
Williams was banished from the Massachusetts Colony; for 
a firm belief in such a God would naturally inspire persecu- 
tion. This is the picture as seen through the poetical 
spectacles of the reverend gentleman : — 

Then were brought nigh a company of civil, lionest men 

That loved true dealing, and hated stealing, ne'er wrong'd their 

brethren ; 
"Who pleaded thus, " Thou knowest us that we were blameless livers; 
'No whoremongers, no murderers, no quarrellers nor strivers." 

Jesus admits that they have been all they claim, but 
proceeds : — 

And yet that part, whose great desert you think to reach so far 
For your excuse, doth you accuse, and will your boasting mar. 
However fair, however square your way and work hath been, 
Before men's eyes, yet God espies iniquity therein. 
You much mistake, if for their sake you dream of acceptation: 
Whereas the same deserveth shame and meriteth damnation. 

This picture of infinite injustice, however, pales into in- 
significance before what follows. Dr. Wiggiesworth had a 
case to make out; it was a bad case; it outraged every 
instinct of justice and love in the fibre of manhood, but he 
had the audacity bravely to face the issue; and though we 
cannot praise his logic, we are forced to admire his courage. 
This is the fate he describes awaiting millions of little buds 
of humanity who passed from life in infancy : — 

Then to the bar, all they drew near who dy'd in infancy, 

And never had or good or bad effected pers'nally. 

But from the womb unto the tomb were straightway carried, 

Or at the last e'er they transgrest who tlius began to plead: 

If for our own transgression, or disobedience. 

We here did stand at thy left hand, just Avere the recompense; 

But Adam's guilt our souls hath spilt, his fault is charged on us: 

And that alone hath overthrown, and utterly undone us. 

Not we, but he ate of the tree, Avhose fruit was interdicted: 

Yet on us all of his sad fall, the punishment's intlicted. 



IRelioious Uboucjbt in Colonial Ba^^s. 135 

How could -we sin that had not l)een, or how is his sin our 
Without consent, which to prevent, we never had a pow'r? 

great Creator, why was our nature depraved and forlorn ? 
Why so detiPd, and made so vil'd whilst we were yet unborn ? 
Behold we see Adam set free, and sav'd from his trespass, 
Whose sinful fall hath spilt us all, and brought us to this pass. 
Canst thou deny us once to try, or grace to us to tender. 

When he finds grace before thy face, that was the chief offender? 

Jesus is then represented as replying in the following 
language : — 

What you call old Adam's fall, and only his trespass, 
You call amiss to call it his, both his and yours it was. 
He was design'd of all mankind, to be a puljlick head, 
A common root, whence all should shoot, and stood in all their stead. 
He stood and fell, did ill ov well, not for himself alone, 
But for you all, who now his fall, and trespass would disown. 
If he had stood, then all liis l)rood, had been established 
In God's true love never to move, nor once awry to tread: 
Would you have griev'd to have received through Adam so much good, 
As had been your for evermore, if he at first had stood ? 
Since then to share in his welfare, you could have been content. 
You may with reason share in his treason, and in the punishment. 
You sinners are, and such a share as sinners may expect. 
Such you shall have; for I do save none but my own elect. 
Yet to compare your sin with their who liv'd a longer time, 

1 do confess yours is much less, though every sin's a crime. 
A crime it is, therefore in bliss you may not hope to dwell; 
But unto you I shall allow the easiest room in hell. 

The glorious king thus answering, they cease, and plead no longer: 
Their consciences must needs confess his reasons are the stronger. 

Having disposed of the sheep and goats, the worthy divine 
next lingers on the field of victory and despair much as a 
bee lingers over the honey cup of a fragrant flower. While 
his observations were intended to illustrate the majesty and 
vengeance of offended Deity, they cannot be considered 
complimentary to either the head or heart of Jesus. 

Xow what remains, but that to pains and everlasting smart, 
Christ should condemn the sons of men, which is their just desert; 
Oh rueful plights of sinful wights! oh wretches all forlorn: 
'T had happy been they ne'er had seen the sun, or not been l)orn. 
Yea, now it would be good they could themselves annihilate, 
And cease to be, themselves to free from such a fearful state. 
O happy dogs, and swine and frogs: yea, serpent's generation, 
Who do not fear this doom to hear, and sentence of damnation! 
Where tender love men's hearts did move unto a sympathy. 
And bearing part of others' smart in their anxiety; 
Now such compassion is out of fashion, and wholly laid aside: 
No friends so near, but saints to hear their sentence can abide, 



136 persons, places an& Hbeas. 

The godly wife conceives no grief, nor can she shed a tear 

For tlie sad fate of her dear mate, when she his doom doth hear. 

He that Avas erst a husliand pierc'd with sense of wife's distress, 

AVhose tender heart did bear a part of all her grievances, 

Shall mourn no more as heretofore because of her ill plight ; 

Although he see her now to be a damned forsaken wight. 

The tender mother will own no other of all her numerous brood. 

But such as stand at Christ's right hand acquitted through his blood. 

The pious father had now much rather his graceless son should lie 

In hell with devils, for all his evils, burning eternally, 

Than God most high should injury, by sparing him sustain; 

And doth rejoice to hear Christ's voice adjudging him to pain. 

Who having all both great and small, convinced and silenced, 

Did then proceed their doom to read, and thus it uttere'd. 

Ye sinful wights, and cursed sprites, that work iniquity, 

Depart together from me forever to endless misery; 

Your portion take in yonder lake, where fire and brimstone flameth: 

Suffer the smart, which your desert as its due wages claimeth. 

What? to be sent to punishment, and flames of burning fire. 

To be surrounded, and eke confounded with God's revengeful ire! 

What ? to abide, not for a tide these torments, but forever: 

To be released, or to be eased, not after years, but never. 

Oh fearful doom! now there's no room for hope or help at all: 

Sentence is past which aye shall last, Christ will not it recall. 

There might you hear them rend and tear the air with their outcries: 

The hideous noise of their sad voice ascendeth to the skies. 

They wring their hands, their caitiff hands, and gnash their leeth for 

terrour ; 
They cry, they roar for anguish sore, and gnaw their tongues for 

horrour. 
But get away without delay, Christ pities not your cry: 
Depart to hell, there may you yell, and roar eternally. 
Dy fain they would, if dv they could, but death will not be had. 
God's direful wrath their bodies hath for ev'r immortal made. 
But who can tell the plagues of hell. 

The lightest pain they there sustain more than intoleralile. 
But God's great pow'r from hour to hour upholds them in the fire, 
That they shall not consume a jot, nor by its force expire. 

Can the imagination of enlightened man in this day con- 
ceive anything more ferociously barharous and inhuman or 
unjust than this picture of the judgment and yet the phe- 
nomenal success of this poem is a most eloquent commen- 
tary on the attitude of religious thought in Massachusetts 
in the seventeenth century, and enables us better to under- 
stand a public sentiment which tolerated the Blue Lavys or 
permitted cruel religious persecution. The hymns of this 
age were also in perfect touch with this friglitful system of 
thought; and though the progress of eliminating those 



IRelfGious Xlboiujbt In Colonial H)a^s. 137 

which voiced the most savage and brutal conception has 
been steadily carried on as humanity grew in intelligence 
and enlightenment, and as the diviner instinct became more 
potent, it has not been long since hymns which any wise and 
loving Deity might reasonably regard as blasphemous were 
sung with great zeal by those who believed they were the 
very elect of heaven. I have in my possession two volumes 
of Dr. Watts' hymns, edited by Rev. Samuel AVorcester, 
D.D., and Samuel M. Worcester, A.M. — one published in 
1850, the other in 1853 by Crocker and Brewster of Boston, 
which well illustrate the tenacity with which the savage 
conception of God held its place in the Church. In these 
volumes we find hymns breathing forth hate in every line ; 
hymns in which the singers are represented as craven, in- 
sane and terrified culprits, striving to appease a relentlessly 
cruel God, uttering fulsome flattery in one bi-eath and dilat- 
ing on His infinite vengeance in the next. To the thought- 
ful reader at the present time, these hymns seem more like 
the incoherent ravings of madmen than the utterances of 
sane reasoning beings. Indeed, it is a marvel to me that 
all who possessed loving hearts and active brains, and who 
believed in this nightmare of eternal despair, did not be- 
come madmen. Take^,, for example, the following : — 

My thoughts on awful subjects roll, — 

Damnation and the dead; 
"What horrors seize the guilt}- soul, 

Upon a dying l)ed. 

Lingering about these mortal shores, 

She makes a long delay; 
Till, like a Hood with rapid force, 

Death sweeps the wretch away. 

Then, swift and dreadful she descends 

Down to the fiery coast, 
Amongst abominable fiends, 

Herself a frighted ghost. 

There endless crowds of sinners lie. 

And darkness makes their chains: 
Tortur'd with keen despair, they cry; 

Yet wait for fiercer pains. 

Xot all their anguish and their blood 

For their old guilt atones; 
Xor the compassion of a God 

Shall hearken to their o;roans . 



13S Persons, places an& 1[^eas. 

Here is another companion lijmn : — 

AVith holy fear, and lunnble song. 
The dreadful God our souls adore; 
Reverence and awe become the tongue, 
That speaks the terrors of His power. 
Far in the deep, Avhere darkness dwells, 
The land of horror and despair, — 
Justice has built a dismal hell, 
And laid her stores of vengeance there. 

Eternal plagues and heavy chains, 
Tormenting racks and hery coals, — 
And darts, t' intiict immortal pains, 
Dy'd in the blood of damne'd souls. 
Tliere Satan, the first sinner, lies, 
And roars, and hites his iron hands; 
In vain the rebel strives to rise, 
Crushed ivith the weight of both thy hands. 

Their guilty ghosts of Adam's race 
Shriek out, and howl beneath thy rod: 
Once they could scorn a Saviour's grace, 
But they incens'd a dreadful God. 
Tremble, my sonl, and kiss the Son: 
Sinner, obey thy Saviour's call; 
Else your damnation hastens on. 
And hell gapes wide to wait your fall. 

Below, the pious author of a once popiiLar hymn, found in 
the collection before referred to, gives us a graphic pen pict- 
ure of God as seen by his mental vision : — 

His nostrils breathe out fiery streams; 

And, from his awful tongue, 
A sovereign voice divides the flames. 

And thunder rolls along. 

Think, O my soul, the dreadful day. 

When this incensed God 
Shall rend the sky, and burn the sea, 

And fling his wrath abroad ! 

"What shall the wretch, the sinner do? 

He once defied the Lord! 
But he shall dread the Thunderer now, 

And sink beneath his word. 

Tempests of angry fire shall roll, 

To blast the rebel worm, — 
And beat upon his naked soul 

In one eternal storm. 



1Relioiou5 Ubouobt in Colonial JDa^s, i39 

Original sin and the degradation of manhood, the direct 
opposite of the incoming religious thought of to-day, Avere 
favorite themes with the hymnologist of other days. Let 
us imagine our great congregations of to-day singing the 
following : — 

Backward, with humble shame we look 

Ou our original; 
How is our nature dashed, and 1n-oke, 

In our first father's fall! 

To all that's good averse, and l)lind, 

And prone to all that's ill ; 
What dreadful darkness veils our mind I 

How obstinate our will! 

Conceived in sin, O wretched state, 

Before we draw our Ijreath, 
The first young pulse Ix'gins to l)eat 

Iniquity and death. 

How strong in our degenei'ate blood 

The old corruption reigns! 
And mingling with the crooked flood, 

Wanders through all our veins! 

Wild and unwholesome, as the root, 

Will all the branches be: 
How can we hope for living fruit, 

From such a deadly tree ? 

What mortal power, from things unclean 

Can pure productions bring ? 
Wlio can command a vital stream, 

From an infected spring ? 

These examples of the poetry which enjoyed wonderful 
popularity, and voiced the austere religious thought of 
colonial days, may help us to appreciate the ocean-wide 
expanse between the dominant religious thought at the time 
when Cotton Mather delivered his eulogy over the body of 
Rev. Michael Wigglesworth and the present, when the pas- 
tor of the most famous Congregational church in America 
declares in favor of evolution, and a learned professor in 
one of the greatest Presl)}i;erian theological colleges pub- 
licly affirms that men can no longer shut their eyes to the 
fact that " the Bible contains errors which no man has been 
able to explain away * and also that there are three sources 

*InauKm-al address by C A. Briggs, on authority of the Holy Scriptures. Charles 
Scribuers' Sons. 



140 persons, places an& 1I^eas. 

or fountains of divine authorit}-, " The Bible, the Church, 
and Reason." So gradually, hoAvever, has this wonderful 
evolution taken place, and so multitudinous have been the 
educational agencies which have steadily lifted man into a 
higher sphere of thought, that it is only when we examine 
the history and literature of a vanished age that we are able 
to appreciate the progress which has been accomplished, or 
jjroperly appreciate the spirit of the past. Religio7i is evolv- 
ing as is humanity. What was orthodoxy yesterday is blas- 
phemy to-day. What is heterodoxy to-day is orthodoxy to- 
morroiv. The history of religious evolution is a tedious and 
often disheartening narrative, and so also is the story of 
life's evolution and the rise of man from the savageiy of 
Central Africa to the development of a Hugo ; but the story 
in each instance is inspiring, for the trend is upivard. The 
star goes before. The road ever leads to higher altitude. 
Jesus came, a luminous life, radiant with love, rich in divine 
pit}^ and strong in moral grandeur ; but His simple teaching 
soon became mazed in Grecian philoso})liical and metaphor- 
ical thought and colored with the many-hued opinions of the 
Roman world. Doubtless this Avas owing to the fact that 
humanity was not yet ready for the divinely simple code of 
ethics which Jesus lived as well as taught. The idea of 
human brotherhood, which was a central i)rinciple in His 
teachings, and which was nowhere better exemplified than 
in His life, has had small influence over the world, but to- 
day it is taking hold of the hearts of the thinking millions 
as never before. Literature is rife with the thought. It 
may be said to be the dream of the millions ; and the very 
presence of this dream as much as aught else affords a rea- 
son for the nnrest and discontent of the age, which chafes 
under galling bonds, the injustice and inhumanity of which 
were not appreciated until this divine ideal came i^ito the 
lives of the people. Some good people to-day yearn for the 
religious atmosphere of colonial days, seeing in them only 
the enchantment and glamour which distance not infre- 
quently lends to scenes rugged, harsh and revolting, and not 
reflecting that religious thought of the kind and character 
which ins})ired our fathers, naturally gave birth to narrow- 
ness, bigotry, intolerance and persecution. Indeed, to-day 
among those who are now giving their attention to the out- 
side of the " cup and platter," and who seek to restore the 



IReliaious Ubouobt in Colonial Daps. i4i 

ancient Sabbath, we see the same spirit of persecution and 
determination to force every one to hoiv to their conception of 
what is right which enthralled human thought, crushed 
human rights, destroyed human happiness, and checked the 
march of progress and intellectual development for genera- 
tions. It may have been necessary for humanity to pass 
through this dark stage in her development ; but to attempt 
to resurrect the past and mingle its spirit with the present, 
would be to chain a corpse to the living, to make turbid the 
clear flowing stream of pure religion by injecting into its 
limpid waves the blood-dyed current of a savage and unde- 
veloped past. The new conception of religion is grandly noble. 
It holds as a cardinal truth the doctrine of human brotherhood. 
It squares all things by absolute justice. There is no old-time 
terror in its glance as it peers into the future, and even if at 
times it doubts, it does not dread ; it is established in the con- 
viction that the trend of life is upward. If God is love, and 
if God is spirit. He will draw all souls by the magnetic at- 
traction of love unto His own pure heights, as the sun calls 
from the ground the budding plant and by its wonderful!}^ 
subtle power calls from it stores of wealth in bloom and fruit. 
It recognizes every law based on absolute and unswerving 
justice, and exj^ects no miraculous interposing to save any 
man from the result of sin, crime, or vice, which it holds to 
be as inevitable as the law which holds in place the plane- 
tary system ; but it eliminates all Oriental ideas of a venge- 
ful despot controlling a world of eternal torment awaiting 
any soul who may have in his being the germ of immortal 
life. The new idea is leavening society; but to-day, as in 
the days of Jesus, it is most potent outside the temples of con- 
servatism. It appeals to the common j^eople and to the intel- 
lectually emancipated with irresistible force ; while those who 
are enslaved within the walls of form, rite and conventional- 
ism, and they who to-day correspond to the Scribes and 
Pharisees of Jesus' time vainly attempt to stay its onward 
sweep. The forces which are working for tlie new ideals in 
religion are as numerous as they are resistless. They will 
triumph in the coming daj^, and in their triumph we shall see 
a higher and truer civilization than has yet visited the world 
— a civilization in which ethics will be married to intelli- 
gence, and LOVE instead of craft will pulse through the soul 
of enlightened man. 



Some Social UDcals Ibclb b^ Dictor Ibiujo, 



Fob many generations to come the AA'ritings of Victor Hugo 
will inspire man in his struggle for a larger and truer life, because 
they are vivitied by conscience. They are more than the works 
of an intellectual genius; the quality of human sympathy is 
everywhere present, while not infrequently the prophet or seer 
presents fundamental facts in which the lessons of history and 
the wisdom which alone can exalt humanity are condensed into 
a few electric sentences which thrill the heart and burn great 
truths into the reader's brain. 

All subjects affecting the happiness of man or the elevation of 
the race were as personal to Hugo as though they vitally con- 
cerned his dearest friend. Thus when the news readied Europe, 
that sentence of death had been passed on John Brown, the poet 
was affected as though his own son had been condemned. He im- 
mediately Avrote an appeal for the prisoner's pardon, as eloquent 
and prophetic as it was earnest and impressive. In it he uttered 
these words, Avhich are thoroughly characteristic of the man and 
his work : " Has a cry of pity time to make itself heard ? It 
matters not, our duty is to raise our voice." 

On May 13, 1839, while witnessing "La Esmeralda" in a 
Parisian theatre, word was brought to Hugo that Barbes had Ijeen 
condemned to death for the part he had taken in an insurrection. 
Hurriedly entering the green room, the poet wrote a few lines to 
Louis Philippe, making a touching allusion to the death of the 
little Princess Mary and the recent birth of the Comte de Paris. 
This appeal for the pardon of a fellow-man was as follows : — 

Oh, by the chikl that is gone, fled away like a dove, 
Oh, by the prince that is born, and claims your sweet love, 
The tomb and the cradle their messages send, 
Be gracious! show mercy! and pardon extend. 

The message moved the king to tears, and the petition was 
granted. 

These illustrations reveal the breadth or universality of the 
jjoet's sympathy. Humanity in misery or sorrow ever moved 
him with that divine mother-love impulse which is the keynote 



Social 1I^cal5 of mictor IfDuoo. i^3 

in the anthem of hiimanit^^'s redemption, " Les Miserahles " is 
more than one of tlie noblest works of fiction Avhicli the world 
I^ossesses, it is a remarkable social study, a prayer for a higher 
icieal of justice, a heart-cry for a more humane public spirit, a 
noble picture of the divine in man and of the possible evolution 
of the child of an advei'se fate from an embittered Ishmaelite to 
the personification of a noble manhood, made luminous by loving 
self-sacrifice. But Victor Hugo went much farther than merely 
stating unjust conditions and portraying the actual working of 
unjust laws. He had an intellectual breadth rare among prophets 
and reformers, which enal)led him fully to appreciate the im- 
portance of employing multitudinous agencies in oi-der to correct 
the monstrous social evils which exile joy and crush out hope. 

He was not, however, blind to the fact that there are certain 
broad lines upon which civilization must move if justice, liappi- 
ness and progress are to Avait upon her footsteps. He knew that 
tyranny might reside elsewhere than in royal j^alaces, and that 
despotism was as fatal to happiness and development if it mani- 
fested itself through a narrow, intolerant pojDular spirit as if it 
emanated from a throne. He realized that the brain of man 
must not be fettered by the slavery of a mediocrity Avhich still 
worshipped in the graveyard of the past, with its face turned 
away from the dawn. In a word, he saw with projjhet vision 
that/"/-e<(7o;?imust always be the handmaid oi Just ice; that liberty 
cannot be exiled from the side of progress if the ha2)])iness and 
the moral and intellectual develoi)ment of men are to mark the 
new time which his keen perception clearly discerned, and for 
the early advent of which he labored with unflagging energy. 
This truth is of paramount importance at the present time, for 
civilization is facing a social revolution which will mark a new 
era for man, provided thoughtful and sincere reformers, Avho love 
justice more than they value their lives, are wise enough to see 
that no threads of a possible despotism enter the fabric of the 
new social order. This danger was perfectly api)arent to Victor 
Hugo, and he frequently pointed out the all-important truth that 
lasting j^rogress without freedom is an utter impossibility : — 

He who is not free is not a man. He who is not free lias no siylit, no 
knowledge, uo discevumeut. Freedom is the apple of the eye, the 
visual organ of progress, and to attempt, because freedom has inconven- 
iences and even perils, to produce civilization Avithout it, would be like 
attempting to cultivate the ground without the sun. 

In the presence of the grave social wrongs Avhich oppress the 
people on every hand, there is danger that shallow^ expediency 
may at times come betAveen the public and the ideal of progress 
Avhich is Avaited upon by freedom no less than justice; and this 
can be a\'erted only by holding firmly to those things Avdiich ai-e 



i-^-t persons, places auD H^eas. 

so fundamental!}- right that they compass the full requirements 
of justice without destroying the free development of the indi- 
vidual. Victor Hugo, though one of the most ardent and radical 
social reformers of his da}-, uttered a solemn note of warning 
along this line thirty years ago. He pointed out the danger lurk- 
ing in the theories of a school of socialistic thinkers who weut to 
the barrack for a pattern of government, instead of recognizing 
the root source of social misery and removing it by the estab- 
lishment of just conditions, while guarding liberty and fostering 
individual development. On this point, which impresses me as 
being of transcendent importance, he made the following thought- 
ful observations, thus setting forth his conception of true social- 
ism and avowing himself to be a socialist * : — 

What an aim — to construct the people! Principles combined with 
science, all possible quantity of the absolute introduced by degrees into 
the fact, Utopia treated successively by every mode of realization — by 
political economy, by philosophy, by physics, by chemistry, by dynamics, 
by logic, by art; union gradually replacing antagonism, and unity re- 
placing union; for religion, God, for priest,the father, for prayer, virtue, 
for field, the whole earth, for language, the word, for law,tlie right, for 
motive-power, duty, for hygiene,labor, for economy, universal peace, tor 
canvas, the very life, for the goal, progress, for authority, freedom, for 
people the man. Such is the simplification. And at the summit the 
ideal. The ideal! — stable type of ever-moving progress. 

The transformation of the crowd into the people — profound task! 
It is to this labor that the men called socialists have devoted themselves 
during the last forty years. The author of this book, however insignifi- 
cant he may be, is one of the oldest in this laboi-. " The Last Day of a 
Condemned Prisoner" dates from isjs, and " Claude Geux" from 1834. 
If he claims his place among tlicsc iiliilosuphers it is because it is a 
place of persecution. A certain liaticil of sncialism, very blind but vei'y 
general, has raged for fifteen or sixteen years, and is still raging most 
bitterly among the influential classes. Let it not be forgotten that true 
socialism has for its end the elevation of the masses to the civic dignity, 
and that, therefore, its principal care is for moral and intellectual culti- 
vation. The first hunger is ignorance; socialism wishes, then, above all, 
to instruct. That does not hinder socialism from being calumniated 
and socialists from being denounced. To most of the infuriated trem- 
blers who have the public ear at the present moment, these reformers 
are public enemies; they are guilty of everything that has gone wrong. 
***** 

Certain social theories, very distinct from socialism as we understand 
it and desire it, have gone asti-ay. Let us discard all that resembles the 
convent, the barrack, the cell and the straight line. To give a new shape 
to the evil is not a useful task. To remodel the old slavery ivould be stupid. 
Let the nations of Europe beware of a despotism made anew from mate- 
rials which to some extent they have themselves supplied. Such a 
thing, cemented with a special philosophy, might easily endure. We 
have mentioned the theorists — some of them otherwise upright and 
sincere — who, through fear of a dispersion of activities and energies, 

* These quotations are taken from different parts of Victor Hugo's wonderful work 
" William Shakespeare," an excellent translation of which has been made by Prof. M, 
B. Anderson and published by A. C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 111. 



Social 1[t)eal5 of mictor 1bugo. i^-^ 

and of what they call "anarchy," have arrived at an almost Chinese 
acceptance of absolute social centralization. They turn their resigna- 
tion into a doctrine. Provided man eats and drinks, all is right. The 
happiness of the beast is the solution. But this is a happiness which 
others might call by a different name. 

We dream for nations something besides a felicity made up solely of 
obedience. The bastinado sums up that sort of felicity for the Turkish 
fellah, the knout for the Russian serf, and the cat-o' -nine-tails for the 
English soldier. Let thenc inrohmfayy iihilosophers of a i:)ossible despot- 
ism reflect that to indoctr/inili the hkissis (K/ninst freedom, to allow appe- 
tite and fatalism to yet a Imid iijuni thr miuds of men, to saturate them 
with materialism and e-cpone t/n-m to the re.'^idts — this would be to under- 
stand progress in the fashion of that worthy man who ap])lauded a new 
gibbet and exclaimed, "Excellent! We have had till now only an old 
wooden gallows; but times have changed for the better, and liere we 
are with a good stone gibbet, which will do for our children and our 
grandchildren! " 

The issue involved is so momentous that the profound truths 
uttered in this warning shoukl receive that cahii, thoughtful con- 
sideration which characterizes true statesmanship and marks the 
prophet who is also a philosopher. 

While pleading eloquently for breadth and a due appreciation 
of liberty when reformers sought to bring about a wider measure 
of justice, Victor Hugo recognized the necessity for a union of 
those who loved humanity, truth and progress, against en- 
throned and soulless conservatism. " At the point now reached 
by the social question," he exclaims, ^<- all action should be in. 
common. Isolated forces frustrate one another. The hour has 
struck for hoisting the 'AH for all.' " Another thought mipres- 
sively presented by our author was the sacred trust imposed by 
duty upon high-thinking men and women. There are those in 
life to-day wdio much resemble the hyena, the tiger, the fox, the 
vulture and the cormorant. There are others avIio are drones in 
the hive of life. Perhaps we cannot reach these persons by 
appeals to conscience any more than Ave can the spaniels Avho 
fawn at the feet of avarice, but men and women of conscience 
will find themselves thrilled by these noble words : — 

To live is to have justice, truth, reason, devotion, probity, sincerity, 
common sense, right and duty welded to the heart. To live is to know 
what one is worth, what one can do and should do. Life is con- 
science. . . . 

There is something beyond satisfying one's appetite. The goal of 
man is not the goal of'the animal. A moral lift is necessary. The life 
of nations, like the life of individuals, has its moments of depression; 
these moments pass, certainly, but no trace of them ought to remain. 
Man, at this day, tends to fall into the stomach; man must be replaced 
in the heart, man must be replaced in the brain. The brain — this is the 
bold sovereign that must be restored! The social question requires 
to-day, more than ever, to be examined on the side of human dig- 
nity. . . . 

Thought is power. All power is duty. Should this power enter into 
repose in our age ? Should duty shut its eyes ? And is the moment 



146 persons, places ant) 1lC>eas» 

come for art to disarm ? Less than ever. . . . The human caravan has 
reached a high plateau; and, the horizon being vaster, art has more to 
do. This is all. To every widening of the horizon, an enlargement of 
conscience corresponds. We have not reached the goal. Concord con- 
densed into felicity, civilization summed up in harmony — that is yet 
far off. . . . 

Great is he who consecrates himself! Even when overcome he re- 
mains serene, and his misfortune is happiness. No, it is not a bad thing 
for the poet to be brought face to face with duty. Duty has a stern like- 
ness to the ideal. The task of doing one's duty is worth undertaking; 
truth, honesty, the instruction of the masses, human liberty, manly 
virtue and conscience — these are not things to disdain. Indignation 
and compassion for the mournful slavery of man are but two sides of the 
same faculty; those who are capable of wrath are capable of love. To 
level the tyrant and the slave — what a magnificent endeavor ! Now the 
whole of one side of actual society is tyrant, and all the other is slave. 
A grim settlement is impending, and it will be accomplished. All 
thinkers must work with that end in view. 

Consecration of self to the cause of human brotherhood — that 
is the august duty which confronts the awakened conscience. 
The poet points out the supreme need, and then pLaces the re- 
sponsibiHty on the individuaL This is not pleasant to the self- 
loving nature. It is easy to place the blame elsewhere, but until 
each individual has made the great renunciation, until each has 
striven to the uttermost, by working, by talking, by voting, by 
writing, and in every way possible, to overthrow present unjust 
conditions and usher in a new day of peace and concord, of hope, 
of justice and freedom, a weight of guilt rests on the soul. Duty 
calls to the conscience. It is the old cry, " Who is on the Lord's 
side ? " 

Nor is it a time when the responsibility can be shifted. If a 
thief is robbing your neighbor, you have no right to close your 
eyes and remain silent ; if a murderer is approaching the bed of 
a brother man, your conscience is not quit of guilt if you hold 
your peace; if a virgin is being polluted and there is a possibility 
that you can save her from contamination, great is your guilt if 
you refrain. Now those hideous wrongs are daily taking place 
through the operation of infamously unjust social and economic 
conditions which can be abolished. And what is more, the vic- 
tims, instead of being three, constitute a mighty commonwealth, 
made up largely of the world's wealth producers. He who closes 
his eyes at a tragic moment like the ]u-esent, when unjust con- 
ditions are driving strong men to suicide, making paupers of 
thousands, and placing before struggling maidenhood the dread 
alternative of starvation or prostitution, may well expect to find 
blood on his soul when he passes into the to-morrow of life. 

To those who prefer to live rather than to exist, to those who 
love, dream and aspire, to those who are haunted with an ideal, 
Victor Hugo delivered a message couched in these burning Avords, 



Social 1[&cal5 of xaictor Hducjo, i-t" 

which comprehend a great renunciation — the dedication of one- 
self to the service of humanit}^ : — 

Let us consecrate ourselves. Let us devote ourselves to the good, to 
the true, to the just. . . . The function of thinkers in our day is com- 
plex. It is no longer sufficient to think — one must love. It is no longer 
sufficient to think and to love — one must act. To think, to love and to 
act is no longer sufficient — one must suffer. . . . The future presses. 
To-morr6w cannot wait. Humanity has not a moment to lose. Quick! 
quick! let us hasten. The wretched hunger, they thirst, they suffer. 
Alas! terrible emaciation of the poor human body. There is too much 
privation, too much poverty, too much immodesty, too much nakedness, 
too many houses of shame, too many convict prisons, too many tatters, 
too many defalcations, too many crimes, too much darkness; not enough 
schools; too many little innocents growing up for evil! The pallet of 
the poor girl is suddenly covered with silk and lace, and in that is the 
worst misery; by the side of misfortune there is vice, the one urging on 
the other. Such a society requires prompt succor. Let us seek out the 
best. Civilization must march forward; let us test theories, systems, 
ameliorations, inventions, reforms. 

But before all, above all, let us be lavish of the light. All sanitary 
purification begins by opening the windows wide. liCt us open wide all 
intellects; let us supply soids with air. Let the human race breathe. 
Shed abroad Jiope, sow the ideal, do good. One step after another, 
horizon after horizon, conquest after conquest; because you have given 
what you promised, do not hold yourself quit of obligation. To ijerform 
is to promise. To-day's dawn pledges the sun for to-morrow. 



jTostcrino tbe Savaoc in tbc l^ouiuj. 



SiJ^^CE the close of tlie Civil AA'ar, the most advanced and 
humane minds of the world have looked to the United States to 
set an example of true civilization, by insisting on the settlement 
of all international disputes in which the republic was concerned 
by arbitration, thus emphasizing the suj^remacy of something 
higher than the reign of brute force, which disregards the sanctity 
of human life and tires the most savage instincts in man. 

There were many reasons Avhy it Avas fitting that the great 
Republic should enjoy the proud distinction of taking the initia- 
tive in the inauguration of an era of universal ])eace. We had 
nothing to fear from Europe, as the great i)0\vers are, tiger-like, 
watching one another. England knows full well that if she should 
declare war against America, she might expect liussia to execute 
her generation-long dream of Indian conquest. If Germany felt 
able to engage us, France would be quick to recover Alsace and 
Lorraine, and, indeed, no nation which could cope with us would 
be insane enough to think of engaging in a Avar with the far- 
away republic, unless our nation occupied such a manifestly un- 
just or indefensible attitude as to bar us from the moral support 
of civilization. 

In such cases as the Alabama Claims and the Behring Sea 
question, our government showed the more excellent way, and 
demonstrated that war is not only unnecessary but that at this 
stage of civilization it is indefensible. And these great peace 
victories, which pointed to the realization of a new civilization, 
were in perfect alignment with the ideals held by the founders of 
our government. 

After our late war, however, our country passed into a stage of 
existence as dazzling to the superficial observer as it was ominous 
to the serious mind — a period characterized by the carrying out 
of vast enterprises, in which, too frequently, the government fur- 
nished a large part of the wealth required, while she permitted 
monopolies to reap the benefits. An era of class legislation was 
succeeded b;^an era of speculation or gambling. Special privi- 
leges, class laws and speculation gave to a few cunning, and often 
totally unscrupulous men, millions of unearned Avealth, and the 
government entered on a moral decline as humiliating to the 

148 



jfostcrino tbe Savaoe in tbe H^oung. 149 

patriot as it is melancholy to those -svho desire to see manhood 
dignified and emancipated and justice enthroned in the affections 
of the people. 

The student of history will note with sadness that, as venalitj^ 
began to creep into the halls of state, and as seats Avhich had been 
honored by uncorrupted patriotism and far-seeing statesmanship 
were purchased by gold or Avon l)y intriguing tricksters, and es- 
pecially as Wall Street and the monoiJolistic power came to sway 
more and more influence in shaping legislation and dictating 
nominations, we began to imitate the despotisms of Europe, not 
only in building arsenals and armories but by assiduously foster- 
ing the war spirit in our young people. 

This period has been marked also by a rapid decline in the 
sturdy, self-reliant national s})irit which in former days made the 
republic the wonder and admiration of the world. The old cry, 
" Let us show the nations of the earth a more excellent way," has 
been exchanged for the pitiful whine of imbecility, and of late 
whenever a promising innovation has been proposed the cry has 
gone forth, "What other nation has tried such an experiment?" 
or " Has England, Austria, Germany or France made any similar 
trial ? " From a republic ^iroud of being a leader in the van of 
civilization, we have turned imitator. Our nation, hy yielding to 
the corrupt influence of individual, class and corporate interests, 
has become emasculated, a condition Avhich has grown more and 
more apparent with each succeeding year. 

As the decline in the republic of Rome was marked bj^ the rise 
of the military i)ower, so there has developed a passion for re- 
awakening the savage in man and child by fostering and incul- 
cating the war spirit, as true democracy has more and more given 
place to plutocracy. That there is method in these things tiiere 
can be little doubt, although it is probable that few ])eople have 
stopped to consider the real significance of the rapid growth of 
armories in our midst. It is not my ])nrpose, however, in this 
paper to deal with this phase of the question. I desire rather to 
utter a protest against the iniquitous military drill now being 
carried on in many of our churches and schools throughout the 
United States. 

In order to impress this phase of the question on the minds of 
our readers, I shall notice one of many similar descriptions of 
military organizations, under the auspices of the church, which 
have recently been given in fulsome terms by leading daily pa- 
pers. The one I am about to notice contains such headings as 
the following ; " Properly Uniformed and Armed ; Both Infan- 
try and Artillery Manoeuvres ; Drills and Public Exhibitions 
Given." Then follows an article which bestows unstinted praise 
on a rich New York church for fostering the Avar spirit in the 



150 persons, places auD 1fC>eas. 

minds of a number of working boys and seeing that they were 
supplied with deadly muskets — muskets Avhich had already been 
used for slaughtering human beings. 

It is needless to point out that in this matter the millionaire 
churches exert an influence over the young very similar to that 
exercised by the barons over their retainers in the feudal ages. 
The article to which I refer* describes the formation of a corps 
of cadets among the Avorking boys of the west side district of 
New York as a noble and philanthropic move. The cadets are 
under the protection and support of the Collegiate Reformed 
Church at Forty-eighth Street and Fifth Avenue, one of the 
wealtliiest churches of New York City. This corps of cadets was 
started by a member of the Fifth Avenue Church of Xew York 
City, who was also a captain in one of the city regiments. The 
following extracts from the article in question illustrate most im- 
pressivefv how this iniquitous work awakens the war spirit and 
fosters the savage dream of slaughter in the minds of the young. 
The writer says : — 

After looking about very thoroughly for proper arms for the corps, 
and listening to the boys' strong objections to "make believe" wooden 
guns, very suitable weapons were obtained. Tliey are Burnside carbines 
bouglit from tlie United States Arsenal at Governor's Island, by special 
permission from the secretary of war. No small degree of charm for 
the boys is added by the fact that the very guns they liandle were once 
used in real fighting. They weigh about six pounds and are, therefore, 
not too heavy for even the smallest soldiers — for the cadets range from 
4 feet 2 inches in height to 5 feet 7 inches. 

All of the other boys of the club not enrolled in the corps are drilled 
without uniforms, so that as soon as a vacancy occurs a well-trained boy 
can be put in it. 

He continues thus : — 

The company is put through all the military evolutions, in accordance 
with the regular army tactics; is taught to march and countermarch, to 
execute many different formations, and to do the whole manual of arms 
and the bayonet exercise. This last is a particularly pretty drill, not 
much in use now, but calculated to give the soldier a free use of his 
weapon and an easy, strong wrist. In a recent entertainment and exlii- 
bition given by the corps at the parent church on Fifth Avenue, this part 
of their work elicited a great deal of applause. 

In addition to the infantry exercises an artillery drill has been estab- 
lished, and a "dummy" or wooden cannon having been built in exact 
reproduction of a genuine field piece, a squad of nine picked boys from 
the company have been taught to handle it. They go through the full 
drill, loading and firing, going into action in every direction, changing 
the wheels and dismounting the piece by taking the cannon from its 
carriage and the wheels from the axle, so that it is entirely dismembered, 
and setting it iip again, all with precision, and each cannonier doing his 
part of the work exactly as regular soldiers are taught to do it. Am- 
bulance and signal corps have also been organized, and during the mock 
action the former carries off the wounded while the latter signals for 
assistance. 

* New York Recorder. 



jfosterimj tbe Savaoc in tbe l^ouno. loi 

Here is a furtber extract taken from the account of a drill 
given in the rich P^iftli Avenue church to raise funds to improve 
the equipment of this corjjs of boys, whose minds are being 
turned by the church from the beauty and happiness of peace 
and civilization to the dream of human slaughter : — 

One little boy, the smallest of the lot, and not over four feet two 
inches tall, went through all the elaborate movements of infantry drill, 
bayonet exercise and artillery drill without an error, and was the avowed 
favorite of the ladies. Round after round of applause was showered up- 
on the corps on this occasion, and greatly appreciated by the little sol- 
diers. At this drill, a sham battle was given, the artillery firing on an 
imaginary army until the enemy was supposed to bring up its cavalry to 
capture the gun. Then the artillerymen signalled to the infantry to 
come to their support. The cannoniers dismounted their piece, and all 
lay down until the supposed enemy was driven off by the infantry fire, 
then mounted their piece again to give them a few farewell shots. Dur- 
ing this action tlie instructor called out the numbers of the boys at in- 
tervals, and as each was designated he fell over as though shot, and was 
carried off by the ambulance corps, while the remaining boys manned 
the cannon. This feature proved especially interesting to the spectators. 

Many pages might be filled with accounts of similar work being 
carried on by the rich and fashionable chui'ches of tlie Prince of 
Peace in the republic, but this illustration will suffice, as it is 
typical. 

In a recent issue of the Corner Stone, edited by one of the 
most intelligent, patriotic and conscientious women of Michigan, 
I find the following : — 

Detroit has twenty-seven church military organizations, containing 
651 men and forty-three officers. The largest is the Baptist cadets, with 
sixty-six men and three officers. Then comes the Maybury cadets, an 
Episcopal organization, with sixty men, the First Congregational cadets 
with fifty-three, the first and last being armed with rifies. Tlie Episco- 
palians have six companies, the Catholics eight, the Presbyterians seven, 
Baptists three, Congregationalists two and Lutherans one. Thirteen of 
the companies are armed with rifies and one with swords. These, it 
must be remembered, are all church military companies, and have no 
connection with the civil societies of the state militia. 

II. 

Probably nothing so well indicates the substitution of a hollow 
and, in the strictest sense of tlie word, a materialistic theoloe:y 
for a religion of life — a loving faith expressed in deeds — as the 
diligent and systematic fostering by church and state of the war 
spirit — which is the murder s])irit — in the rising generation. 
The position of the church on this question is at once astounding 
and incomprehensible, if we admit that the spirit of her Founder 
still vivifies her being ; for even the most superficial thinker 
knows that the drilling of youth in the manual of arms must 
necessarily fill the brain with ideals which are the exact anti- 



152 persons, places anC) IFDeas. 

podes of the teaching of the Prince of Peace. The ultimate 
which a course of practice leads to, or the ideal which it inspires, 
gives color to the thought world of those who come under its 
influence, and this is especially true when the plastic brain of 
childhood is dominated by an alluring ideal. 

Comparatively few people are aware of the military activity 
within the city churches of America to-day. It is true that the 
daily papers of our great cities have published of late so many 
elaborate and laudatoiy accounts of church-fostered military 
companies, that those who read more than the news items m.ust 
be more or less familiar with what is going on in this direction ; 
but the millions in the countr}^ and towns are ignorant of the 
magnitude of this movement, and the weary workers who, in the 
nature of the case, cannot take time to reason from cause to 
effect, are content to accept as gospel whatever the capitalistic 
and conventional press applauds, without appreciating the real 
significance of many ominous acts which are taking place to-day. 

The religious leaders who introduced military instruction and 
drill in the churches and those who later favored it, whatever 
may have been their motives, committed an error so grave, that 
it even now threatens to turn civilization back toward savagery 
and destroy the opening blossom of universal peace through 
arbitration. I do not wish to impugn the motives of those who 
advocated the formation of militaiy companies in the churches. 
I believe that for the most part they only sought a way of draw- 
ing the young into the cliurch by means which would naturally 
be attractive. The error they committed lay in departing from 
the fundamental teachings of their ovm accredited Leader, whom 
theg believe to he a God, and loho, in life, spirit and word, em- 
phasized in the most solemn and imp>ressive manner the impor- 
tance of driving from the brain every dream of war, every ideal 
that looked toward physical violence, every thought which com- 
jjrehended the taking of human life. The profound insight of 
Jesus, which led Ilini to transfer the seat of actual ci-iminality 
from the commission of the crime to the entertainment of the 
thought which fathered its execution, has been generally over- 
looked by modern theologians. 

The question will naturally arise as to how it was possible 
that servants of the Prince of Peace could so far forget the life 
and teaching of their Leader as to foster or favor the formation of 
military organizations? I think the mistake was due mainly to 
(1) a shortsightedness which overlooked the influence of the 
iiltimate ideaf upon the plastic brain of childhood, and (2) to an 
unconscious yielding to the savage spirit of our gold-crazed age, 
which prevented their coming into rapport with the deepest and 
most philosophic truths uttered by the great Nazarene. 



dF03terinc3 tbe Savacje in tbe 31)ouni). 153 

One evil effect of this mistake was soon manifest. The old 
fires of religious hate, which have so darkly stained the history 
of Christianity, were at once awakened. There is nothing which 
should be more carefully guarded against than stimulating reli- 
gious hatred. Theological fanaticism knows no reason. The 
finest sentiments of mercy, justice and gentleness are by it 
trampled under foot. There always has existed within the fellow- 
ship of the various Protestant churches, no less than within the 
communion of Rome, a more or less formidal)le minority whose 
-views are sonaTTO^sv that they cannot or will not admit the prob- 
aliility, even if they grant the possibility, of those who differ from 
them being right, and who in their hearts believe that all who do 
not see religious truth through their spectacles will necessarily be 
damned. They ignore the admonitions of Jesus, in which He 
observed that he who w\as not against Him was for Him, and leave 
out of consideration the fact that had they been born into Moham- 
medan lands they would have been in all probal)ility as intolerant 
in their demand that all others should believe in the tenets of the 
Mohammedan religion as they are that all shall see as they now see. 
They furthermore forget, or are incapable of realizing, that hearts 
and brains are not all cast in the same mould, and though the 
fundamentals of love, justice, truth and right as they pertain to 
life are ever the same, belief in certain tenets is largely, if not 
almost entirely, a question of heredity and environment. 

These narrow-minded persons ai-e often conscientious and sin- 
cere, but they are also always possible persecutors, and their 
influence is necessarily unchristian, because it invariably stirs up 
hate and savagery in the hearts of others. The formation of 
military companies in churches at once afforded an excuse for 
these classes to come to the front and influence the minds of 
those more swayed by prejudice than by justice and right. Ow- 
ing to the long and savage conflict between Protestantism and 
Catholicism it is no difficult task to alarm a goodly numlier of 
partizan religionists of the great opposing bodies, and a deter- 
mined attempt is being fostered by the fanatics to arraign these 
two forces against each other. I have for months been saddened 
by seeing organs of hate seeking to arouse the fiercest passions 
in the minds of their readers, in the name of religion and in'e- 
sumably for the glory of the Prince of Peace. 

I most profoundly believe that if Jesus came to the republic 
to-day His first command Avould be " Ground arms " ; for the 
present arming and drilling of His pretended followers is a 
flagrant insult to His life and teachings. He was emphatically a 
Man of Peace and even opposed retaliation. Love was His 
talisman. He taught that hate and the murderous spirit of war 
were from the \nt. They represented the savagery of the brute. 



15^ persons, places an& IT^eas. 

His disciples must be ohildren of ]>eace if they would please tlie 
Infinite Father whose name was Love and who dwelt in Lisrht. 
" Blessed are the peace makers, for thej' shall be called the chil- 
dren of God." The sign manual of Divine sonship was peace 
making, exactly as fostering the spirit of slaughter is the un- 
mistakable sign of the atheism of greed, the matei-ialism of 
animality. "Ye have heard that it hath been said. Thou shalt 
love thy neighbor and hate thine enemy ; but I say unto you, 
Love your enemies." " Put up thy sword ; whoso taketh the 
sword shall perish by the sword." 

The example of Jesus' life, no less than His solemn precepts, 
was an unfailing protest against war, hate, savagery and whatever 
could arouse or strengthen the animal side of man's nature. 
Instead of military drill, Jesus w^ould burn into the souls of the 
youth this thought expressed by Isaiah, "7/oto heautiful upon 
the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, 
that 'pnhlisheth peace?'' The highest ideal and dreams of prophet, 
sage and j^hilosopher in all ages are summed up in the lofty 
words of the olden seer: '•'■Men shall heat their s%i:ords into 
ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation shall 
not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any 
more. 

III. 

The work of fostering the savage spirit in the minds of the 
very young has not been conlined to the church ; indeed we 
might say that the church, instead of holding steadfastly to the 
high ideal of Jesus, allowed, herself to hearken to the words of 
short-sighted thinkers and drift with the current of a settled 
policy, which has of late become more and more apparent 
Avith each successive administration. The introduction of 
military training into the common schools of America mai-ked 
the triumph of the military spii'it of despotic Europe over 
the long-cherished traditions of the republic. Not satisfied 
with teaching the manual of arms in colleges, which should be 
dedicated to peace and true civilization, the high schools have 
come under the curse of this blunting, soul-shrivelling influence 
of war, and so cunningly has this spirit of savagery been fostered 
that the lower schools are now threatened with its infection. 
We are told that the administration looks with favor on enlarging 
the scope of military insti'uction ; and ex-President Harrison, 
not to be outdone, allows the admonitions of his acknowledged 
Lord and Master to be forgotten in his desii'e to win the favor of 
capitalism and the Grand Army, by exclaiming, " It is good for 
the boil's, good for the schools and good for the country." 

On the 18th of May there passed under my office windows a 



jfostenuG tbe Savage in tF^e ll)ouno. 155 

sight which saddened me for many days. It was the spectacle 
of more tlian twelve hundred lads, of from twelve to nineteen 
years of age, parading in full uniform, all bearing guns. They 
were headed by a band which discoui'sed popular military aii-s. 
The little street gamins looked enviously upon the boys clad in 
blue, with brass buttons, bearing standai'ds and marching to mili- 
tary music. I do not see how any thoughtful person could have 
looked upon the spectacle without feeling that the hands on the 
dial of civilization were being put back. In describing the event 
the Boston Daily Globe said : — 

The "Pride of Boston," its school regiment, composed of pupils of 
the high and Latin schools of the city, and numbering 1,330 lads ranging 
in age from tliirteen to nineteen years, organized as thirty-two companies 
and forming four battalions, had its annual parade yesterday. For the 
past two weeks, or since the death of Brig.-Gen. Hobart Moore, under a 
new instructor the officers and men of tlie regiment have worked with 
an energy commendable in the highest degree. 

In their neat blue uniforms, with bright eyes and smiling faces, the 
boys assembled at the school building, Montgomery Street and Wan-en 
Avenue, with soldierly promptness at o'clock, ready for the duties of 
the day with the regiment. At 10.15 the column started upon its march 
to the common. 

Great applause greeted the regiment as it turned into School Street 
and marched past city hall in column of platoons, giving a marcliiug 
salute to Mayor Matthews, who stood at the gateway, attended by Pri- 
vate Secretary Nat Taylor, City Messenger Peters, sevei'al aldermen and 
heads of departments. A brief halt was made on Beacon Street before 
reaching the state house, which passing in column of companies, march- 
ing honors were given Governor Greenhalge, who, standing upon the 
steps of the capitol, received the compliment. 

The commander-in-chief was attended by Adjt.-Gen. Dalton and Col- 
onels Benton, Kenney, Billings, Moses, Hastings and Page of his military 
family. 

To the lover of peace, to the truly civilized man and Avoman, 
to the high-minded patriot, such spectacles are saddening beyond 
expression. They reveal the fact that, after our country had 
reached the point where she had by arbitration shown the othei- 
great powers of the world a nobler way of settling disputes 
than by awakening the instincts of the savage in man, and 
just at the proud moment when it seemed that the flower of en- 
during peace was about to blossom upon the breast of the great 
republic, we hnd the cry going forth, to transform her from the 
world's harbinger of peace into a military camp ; and that this 
may be effectively done, we find that our boys in the common 
schools are being trained in the savage art of war. 

Every careful student of human life knows that the ideals and 
thoughts which fill the horizon of childhood color all after life. 
If during the formative period the ideals which fill the child's 
mind be essentially noble and humane, if he be taught that his 



156 persons, places aiiD UDeas* 

mission is to help subdue the savage in man, to transform swords 
into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks, or in other words, 
to become a saviour of life and a dispenser of happiness instead 
of a slayer of his brother and an angel of darkness, he will grow 
to manhood brave but gentle, manly but loving. He will love 
justice more than gold ; he will see that the man who develops 
the highest side of his life is the child of wisdom, and that 
w^herever he may go the flowers of joy will spring up, blossom 
and fling abroad their exhilarating perfume. 

On the other hand the child who is drilled in the manual of 
arms has constantly before him the hour when he may draw the 
trigger which means death to a fellow-man ; he comes to love 
the sound of the drum beat, and learns to long for a chance to 
shoulder the murderous gun. He turns to the lives of Alexander, 
Coesar and Xapoleon ; dreams of fame through slaughter, of 
power through devastation and destruction, fill his mind, and by 
coming to believe it is legitimate to kill his fellow-men when 
ordered to by a superior officer, the highest and finest elements 
in his mind are benumbed. And I may say here, what I most 
profoundly believe, that there can never be an approach to civil- 
ization so long as the child mind receives military drill, for the 
associations, ideals and dreams which necessarily follow in the 
wake of warlike instruction are so at variance with the ideals 
which alone can redeem the world from hate, greed and injustice, 
that until children are taught to entertain a profound reverence 
for human life, human rights and for justice in its broadest sense, 
humanity will not know what true civilization is. 

IV. 

We are informed by the advocates of military drill that there 
is much to be said in its favor, aside from its possible benefit to 
the state in the event of war. We are informed that it gives the 
boy much needed physical c^dtnre. In re2:)ly I would say that, 
even if this claim were well founded, the possible benefit would 
be many times counterbalanced by the blunting of the moral 
sensibilities which attends training in the art of human slaughter, 
to say nothing of the evil effect in filling his mind with dreams 
of fame based on the exercise of the savage in his nature. 

But let us further notice the claims put forth for military drill 
on the ground of its value in developing the physical body. On 
this point there is a diversity of opinions ; indeed, it is doubtful, 
if the spirit of Ca?sar were not so strong at the present time, 
Avhether thoughtful people would advance this as an argument, 
but let us notice its force. There is probably no man in the 
United States whose judgment in regard to physical culture will 



Ifosterino tbc Savacje in tbe l^ouno. i57 

be universally accepted as more authoritative than that of Dr. D. 
A. Sargent of Harvard University, and on this point Dr. Sargent 
observes : — 

After the most favorable view possible of military drill as a plij'sical 
exercise, we are led to conclude that its constrained positions and 
closely localized movements do not afford the essential requisites for 
developing the muscles and improving the respiration and circulation, 
and thereby improving the general health and condition of the system. 
We must further conclude that in case of any malformation, local weak- 
ness or constitutional debility, the drill tends, by its strain upon the 
nerves and prolonged tension on the muscles, to increase the defects 
rather than to relieve them. Finally, if the ultimate object of the drill 
Avas to prepare young men for the life and duties of a soldier, we should 
be forced to conclude that the drill itself would still be defective as a 
means of developing the chief requisites for men in that profession. 

It will be observed that this craze for militarj' drill, Avhich is 
one of the legitimate fruits of the war spirit which is being 
fostered and which finds expression in the rapid multiplication of 
armories in our great centres of population, does not, according to 
Dr. Sargent, accomi)Iish the ph^^sical culture which wholesome 
gymnastic exercise gives. Moreover he urges that soldiers to be 
efficient should receive the gymnastic training as Avell, and the 
correctness of this observation is emphasized Avhen it is remem- 
bered that the great military powers of Europe give the recruits 
several months' gymnastic training before they are expected to 
fill the requirements of soldiers. 

Mr. Leverett W. Case, master of the Dudley School of Rox- 
bury, Boston, vx'hen interviewed a few months ago in regard to 
the advisability of introducing the military drill into the grammar 
schools, made the following observation : — 

It is a bad thing for the boys. These public street parades are espe- 
cially evil things. I have known three or four boys to faint away from 
the fatigue and excitement on such occasions. Then again, it teaches 
the boys to look forward to war, and to cherish a desire for fighting 
which is not desirable. It seems to me that after twenty centuries of 
religious enlightenment we ought to be able to live without fighting, 
and the maintenance of standing armies. I believe in fostering a love of 
nature and peaceful intercourse between one another ^mong school 
children. Boys should be taught what will be useful to them, but they 
should not be taught that which would engender a desire for warfare. 
The Ling system of gymnastics which we now have in the grammar 
schools answers every purpose. It gives the school plenty of wholesome 
exercise and that is all they need.* 

We are told that military drills give grace and suppleness to 
the boys. In noticing this point Dr. Sargent observes: — 

In reference to the gracefulnesss that is thought to characterize the 
movements of young cadets, I can only say it is not the outcome of 
drilling and marching. The soldier is trained to square corners, straight 

* Interview published in Boston Daily Journal, Jan. 24, 1894. 



158 persons, places auD H^eas. 

platoons, and angular movements. Curves and embellishments are not 
encouraged, in speech or in action. If you would account for the grace- 
ful pose of our Xational Cadets you must see them from one to two 
hours a day in charge of the dancing mnster. 

It is further urged that if our boys are drilled in school they 
will be prepared for war. On this point, I desire to quote tlie 
words of Lieut. Col. Thomas F. Edmands of the Boston 
Cadets: — 

" I only know that school drill Injures the militia service; and I never 
saw a school successfully drilled — tliat is, where the play was worth 
the candle. It is imj^racticable to teach the boys anything more than 
the manual of arms. It is one of the clearest cases ever invented of a 
little knowledge being a dangerous thing. Boys like it because they are 
aping the men and wear tlash clothes. When they get through school 
their heads are so swelled by it that they think they know it all, and are 
unwilling to receive any military instruction of real value to themselves 
or to the country." 

" How about the physical benefits to be derived from the drill? " 

" In Boston tlie effect of school drill has been to make boys round 
shouldered and narrow chested. I never saw a school company well set 
up in my life. Except a few of the larger ones the boys are overweighted 
by the musket they are obliged to carry." 

" Then you do not believe the drill adds much to the value of the boy 
as a subsequent military man"? " 

"The modern drill regulations are by no means adapted for work in 
schools under any circumstances. They need a man's brains and muscles. 
Every time I tell the truth about the matter I generally raise a storm 
fro-m persons illy informed upon the subject, and from the boys, whose 
self conceit, engendered by this drill, should be one of the greatest 
arguments against its further practice." 

Even if Colonel Edmands were incorrect, the claim that our 
youth should be instructed in the tactics of war, in case there 
may be war, is so peurile^.and out of keejnng with what ought to 
be the spirit of our century, that those who know so well Avhat 
will result from filling the brain of the young with visions of 
military glory, should demand an immediate cessation of this 
ungodly and savage drill which belongs to the plane of the 
barbarian, and which is a crime against civilization, the republic 
and the young. The mothers, wives and sisters in this great 
republic, and all who love peace, justice and enlightenment, have 
a great responsibility resting upon them. If the savage is to be 
beaten back to his lair and the man again enthroned, there is not 
an hour to be lost. 



1bv>pnoti5in ant) Hts IRelatton to ps^cbical 
1Rc0carc[\ 



I. 

During the past thirty years the gradual accumulation of 
incontrovertible evidence revealing hitherto undreamed-of 
possibilities of the human mind, has been such as to warrant 
us in believing that we are on the threshold of a field of re- 
search which Avill mark a distinct epoch in human history, if 
indeed it be not prophetic of the next great step in man's 
evolutionary development. And in referring to the psychical 
phenomena already demonstrated, I include onlv such abso- 
lute facts as have been established by critical and competent 
scientific research. 

With the vast mass of alleged phenomena which con- 
fronts the earnest inquirer on every hand it is not my present 
purpose to deal. I shall confine myself for the most part to the 
examination of phenomena which have been as authoritatively 
demonstrated by critical comparative methods as other univer- 
sally accepted truths in physical science, as my chief purpose 
in this paper is to indicate the all-important fact that the old- 
boundaries of mental limitation have been broken down; 
that what has hitherto been regarded as the impossible is now 
a demonstrated actuality, and, therefore, that it is unscientific 
and unworthy our age to close our eyes longer to this field 
of research which already promises to disclose truths of 
inestimable value. I am well aware that many who do 
not consider themselves conservative thinkers will regard 
this view of the possibilities of psychical research as unwarran- 
tably optimistic. The}^ will remind us of the fact that in all 
ages alleged phenomena have entered the woof and web of pop- 
ular superstition and legendary lore, while nothing of scientific 
value has been demonstrated. Thev, however, do not take 
into account the important fact that though man's mental 
limitation in the past has led him to denominate as miracu- 

159 



ICO persons, places auD IFDeas. 

lous or supeniiitural all phenomena Ijeyond then known laws, 
it is no evidence that these phenomena have not occurred 
through the orderly operation of some great law, which, 
although existing from the beginning of creation, has awaited 
recognition, as the law of gravitation so long awaited the 
cognizance of man. 

Objections to psychical research are so frequently urged 
that it seems necessary, on the very threshold of our examina- 
tion of this subject, briefly to give a few reasons which, in 
my judgment, justify belief in the early demonstration of 
psychical facts as revolutionarj,^, important and even more 
beneficent than this century's crowning achievement in the 
province of physical science — the establishment of the 
theory of evolution. 

In the first place, let us not lose sight of the fact that the 
ascendency of a strictl}- critical or scientific method of inves- 
tigation is of comparatively recent date, but it has now so 
completely mastered dominant thought that the people in 
general, as well as scientific bodies, are coming to apply it 
to all phenomena with which they come in contact. Mere 
hearsay no longer satisfies the spirit of the age ; while until 
the establishment of this method it is evident that facts which 
may have actually occurred were, from a scientific point of 
view, practically worthless. Hence, whatever is demonstrated 
under what is known as the comparative method of scientific 
research possesses a positive value never before present. In 
the second place, the marvellous strides witnessed in the 
province of physical science, and the unparalleled triumph 
within a few decades of the evolutionary theory over uni- 
versally accepted, age-long tliought, indicate a readiness on 
the part of humanity to accept a new truth. This marks a 
distinct advance in civilization, and reveals how strong a 
hold reason has taken in a soil heretofore more or less over- 
grown Avith the weeds of superstition, prejudice and intoler- 
ant bigotry. Indeed, I know of no victory in the history 
of man's intellectual development more significant than that 
which attended the general acceptation of the theory 
promulgated by Darwin, Spencer and Wallace. True, the 
conflict was marked for a time by great bitterness and un- 
reasonable hostility on the part of dominant theology and 
conservative thought, yet the new idea succeeded in a few 
years in revolutionizing the intellectual conception of civili- 



Ib^pnotfsm. lei 

zation, turning the thought of the world from channels throuo-h 
which it had flowed almost uninterruptedly for ages, into not 
only a radically different bed, but one which carried its cur- 
rent in a diametrically opposite direction. This triumph of 
physical science over inherited ideas and the superstitions 
and traditions of ages, has proved of inconceivable value to 
scientific investigation in the psychical realm, as it has 
broadened the vision of the intellectual world and destroyed 
the breastworks of religious prejudice, which would other- 
wise have rendered critical study of supernormal phenomena 
doubly difficult. 

A third point which warrants our belief in the approach of 
an era of great advancement in this realm, is the very notice- 
able fact that many eminent scientific thinkers who have 
hitherto ignored or discouraged psychical research, are now 
coming forward and demanding not only a fair hearing for 
this exiled truth, but are insisting that their own great 
bodies investigate what a few years ago would have been 
scornfully dismissed as belonging only to the province of 
superstition, charlatanry and jugglery. Perhaps the most 
notable instance of the gradual giving way of prejudice on 
the part of eminent scientists, is found in the annual address 
of Prof. Oliver J. Lodge, President of the Section of Mathe- 
matics and Physics of the British Association for Advance- 
ment of Science, delivered last August, in which this eminent 
and conservative thinker took strong ground in favor of his 
society systematically investigating psychical phenomena. 
In the course of his remarks he made the following significant 
observations : — - 

What Ave know is as nothing to that which remains to he 
known. This is sometimes said as a truism ; sometimes it is half- 
doubted. To me it seems the most literal truth, and that if we 
narrow our view to already half-conquered territory only, we 
shall be false to the men who won our freedom, and treasonable 
to the highest claims of science. 

I care not what the end may be. I do care that the inquiry 
shall he conducted by us, and that we shall be free from the dis- 
grace of jogging along accustomed roads, leaving to outsiders the 
work, the ridicule, and the gratification of unfolding a new 
region to unwilling ej'es. 

It is sometimes objected that, granting thought-transference or 
telepathy to be a fact, it belongs more especially to lower forms 
of life, and that as the cerebral hemispheres develop we become 



162 persons, places ant) H^eas. 

independent of it ; that what we notice is the relic of a decaying 
faculty, not the germ of a new and fruitful sense ; and that prog- 
ress is not to be made by studying or attending to it. It may 
be that it is an immature mode of communication, adapted to 
lower stages of consciousness than ours, but how much can we 
not learn by studying immature stages? As well might the 
objection be urged against a study of embr^-ology. It may^ on 
the other hand, be an indication of a higher mode of communica- 
tion, lohich shall survive our temporary connection with ordi- 
nary matter. 

I have faith in the intelligibility of the universe. Intelligi- 
bility has been the great creed in the strength of which all intel- 
lectual advance has been attempted, and all scientific progress 
made. At first things always look mysterious. A comet, light- 
ning, the aurora, the rainbow — all seem strange, anomalous, 
mysterious apparitions. But scrutinized in the dry light of science, 
their relationship -with other better-known things becomes ap- 
parent. 

Now I say that the doctrine of ultimate intelligibility should be 
pressed into other departments also. At present we hang back 
from whole regions of inquiry, and say they are not for us. A 
few we are beginning to grap[)le with. The nature of disease is 
yielding to scrutiny with fruitful result ; the mental aberrations 
and abnormalities of hypnotism, duplex personality and allied 
phenomena, are now at last being taken under the wing of 
science after long ridicule and contemjit. The phenomenon of 
crime, the scientific meaning and justification of altruism, and 
other matters relating to life and conduct, are beginning, or i)er- 
haps are barely yet beginning, to show a vulnerable front over 
which the forces of science may pour. 

Such utterances from such ii source are very significant, 
revealing the fact that psychical phenomena have taken such 
a hold on the public mind that they can no longer be ignored 
by leading scientific bodies, and also indicate that the hos- 
tility heretofore exhibited by orthodox thinkers in the domain 
of physical science is gradually but stirely giving away.* 

*The change of sentiment now daily liecninins' more anrt more manifest among 
tliinking people and especially tlie nunc ciiix r\ ati\ c t'linicnr nf scliolars audscien- 
tiftc investigators, is largely due to the siilmdid wuik ai^iMimiili^iuMl during the past 
few years by the English 'Society for rsNclncal lifMMic h, wiiidi has accumulated, 
verified ancf classified so much suijerudimal iihcnoincna widcli hiihcnn ihiatcd around 
as gossip,exerting no great influence on ciiiical thinker-. "\\ iim i^ the a pi'i rent absence 
of evidential value. The researches (d' such cmin'Mit >i\ani- a- Hr. Allied Uussel 
Wallace and Professor Crookes in England, Caniinc I'lanimaricm in I'rance, and 
Professor J. R. Buchanan and Professor William Denton in America, have alsoexerted 
an influence which is yearly becoming more and more manifest on c<in':ervative 
thought. The discoveries of Braid and the more recent demonstrations of leading 
physicians in hypnotism have also contributed materially to the slowly changing 
attitude of popular scientists. 



Ibppnotism. 163 

A fourth fact worthy of mention is the surprising and deiinite 
results whicli have crowned the limited scieutitie research in 
psychical fields during recent years. They have already- 
broken down beyond all controversy the old ideas of mental 
limitation. They have demonstrated that the conception so 
long held as final, is as erroneous as was the one-time uni- 
versal belief in a flat world, or the theory of a practically 
instantaneous creation. 

These observatiofis seemed necessary on the very threshold 
of this subject, owing to the prejudice and hostility of domi- 
nant thought which, however, as noted above, is each year 
giving way, although still exerting sufficient influence to 
prevent a candid and unbiased investigation of facts on the 
part of thousands of scholarly minds.* In the present paper 
I shall touch chiefly on the revelations which have attended 
scientific experimentation in hypnotism, not because they 
are more remarkable than many other psj'chical phenomena 
which are now challenging the thoughtful consideration of 
many leading scientists, but because owing to the nature and 
extent of the investigations carried on by a number of the 
foremost scientific and medical men of the age, the array of 
indisputable yet astonishing facts is so complete and of 
such a character as best to carry conviction to prejudiced 
minds. 

* I am by uo means unmindful of the causes which have largely contributed to this 
general distrust, and which may be briefly mentioned as follows : 

[1] The oft-demoustrated element of unquestioned credulity which characterizes 
ignorant people and causes them to swallow with avidity all iiheiioiuena which they 
fail to understand. [2] The general ignorance of tlie laws CdiutTiiiiii; these manifesta- 
tions, which enables charlatans and impostors to establish c<in<liti(iiis riaimcd t<i tie 
essential, which render fraud pusi-ii.lc ami iinite tiicki-rv. |:;| Tlic iiiiMicnt itic 
report of the learned liailey C'oniiiii^-iini. ai'iMiinted li\- the f'triicli l ii'\ ii iimmi in 
1784 to investigate mesmerisni. or what «a> then p^i m la liy termed animal ma-mi i-m. 
in which it was declared that all ilie |M.\\cr alleiinl to lia\ !■ been (■xhibiii'il h\ Momer 
wasa "fraud" and that, to Use ilie \\.nii> ,,t r.ailew ■• .l/.(<///-7/-yj/ i-^in,, juri iiiof m 
the history of human error, II ii'l II iin^ii /jrni,/' m' l/n inm-i r mi iii'im mil imi." 'I'liis 
reprehensible exhibition of doumatie inereiUility, un(iuestional)ly i:ieail\ retariled 
scientific procress al(m'_' this line of research. [4] The great iiiimeir- in iiliy-ical 
science, who en<(inntere(l -ndi a torrent of scornful abuse from e(m-er\ ai i\ c tlmniilit 
when they broui: lit Iniib the ihrnry of evolution, with a few cons] ii(ii(.ns exiepl i.ms, 
have displayed unwai-fantalile imlilTerence and in some instanre- nnnh the -ame 
siiiiit of lin-tilit\ t..\\ai(l psxihieal investigation as that abont which the\ so justly 

C(im]ilai 1 wlien their i.w n ' t hfories were first present<'il. 'I'his ai i it mli'. s.. t Imr- 

oin;hl\ (li-ereilitalile and essent ia I ly unscientific, has preveiitnl t h^ Mi-ainl-- nl in\ est iua- 
t(ns, \\\\u take ideas second-band, from pnrsninp: reseaii-h ahMm p-\'hir;il lines. 
('.in-ei\ ati-ni as usual frowned nixmall idimeiM- 1 hinUci-. and t hei.h.uy. moic a|ii>relien- 
siw (.1 ih.- .>verthrowof someelierislied idol t han the f linmpb ..t t int h. lias „ntil very 
reeeiifly assumed a hostile attitude. With thi^ ri-init> ..t ,,],pn.in,- I.. r.-.- added to 
the other causes enumerated al)nvc. it is m.t stranL;(' that |iri><_;rc-- ha- been sinnewbat 
slow. Now, however, the wall ot | nc j mlh'r ha~ to -. nnc eMcnl '^i\ lai way ami with 

the constant establisi ■m ..t new la.t- ahm-thc line ..r |.~v. hi.al ri->eareb, the 

people are manifestimj,- a ediistaiitly iiierea-in.t;- spirit (d hos]iitalir\ most i:ratifying to 
those careful investigators who have for vears employed a stri(nly scientific method, 
but who have been socially ostracized because they loved the truth more than the 
approbation of conventional thought. 



164 persons, Iplaces ant) Hbeas. 

II. 

In 1841, the eminent English surgeon, James Braid, 
determined to expose mesmeiism, Avhich he in common with 
his scientific brethren believed to be an unmitigated fraud. 
Doctor Braid soon came to realize that instead of mesmerism 
being an unadulterated fraud, it possessed the grain of truth 
capable of revolutionizing established ideas. Accordingly 
he entered upon the laborious task of demonstrating and 
critically noting facts connected with these marvelous phe- 
nomena. In 1842, he published his notable work entitled 
"Neurypnology." Immediately he suffered from a storm of 
hostile criticism. Nevertheless his clear utterances and the 
methods employed gained for him the thoughtful considera- 
tion of several eminent continental thinkers, who were less 
fettered by conservatism than his English professional breth- 
ren. A score of years later hypnotism was attracting much 
attention among leading physicians and other scientific inves- 
tigators in France and other continental nations. Since that 
day it has rapidly gained in the number of eminent scientists 
who have wrought what iii an earlier age would have been 
resfarded as miracles. Among the critical thinkers who have 
given special attention to the power of mind along this 
special line of inquiry since the publication of Doctor Braid's 
Avorks are Liebault, Bernheim and Beaunis of Nancy, and 
Charcot of Paris, while scarcely less valuable to science 
have been the labors as demonstrators, or critical observers, 
of Paul Richer, P. David, Professor Luj^s, Janet, Richet, 
Voisin and Reginald of Paris.* 

In 1878, Charcot began a series of strictly scientific 
investigations. He operated, however, only on hysterical 
subjects, believing that only a fcAv people were susceptible, 
and they among the Aveak, sickly and nervous. Indeed, 
until within the last decade this was the general impression. 
Recent experiments, hoAvever, as Bjtirnstrom has observed, 
with elaborate statistics furnished by the Nancy physi- 
cians, prove that "almost any one can be hypnotized." 
Some jDersons, hoAvever, yield much more easily than others. 

* Ocliorowicz, a Polish scholar who resides in Paris, and Dr. Frederick Bjomstrom, the 
head physician of the Stockholm hospital, have contributed works of great value to 
the literature of hypnotism. Their writings have been translated into English. To 
the latter author I am indebted for many interesting facts and striking illustra- 
tions given. I am also indebted to the work of Prof. AVilliara James, of Harvard, and 
Part XA'III. of Proceedings of the English Society for Psychical Research for valuable 
illustrations and well-authenticated cases. 



1bl5Pnotism. 165 

The eminent author further observes that "Climate seems to 
have the effect of making hyj^notization much easier in 
warm and southern countries than in cokl and northern. 
Thus the French show a far greater susceptibility than the 
Scandinavians and Germans. In the tropics, hypnosis is said 
to appear rapidly, and to become very deep."* 

III. 

This brings us to the examination of some typical cases 
exhibited by the hypnotic trance and the legitimate infer- 
ences which they suggest relating to the power not only of 
mind over mind, but what is still more at variance with 
popular conceptions, the power of mind over matter. In this 
paper, space prevents my introducing many illustrations from 
the vast accumulation of Avell-authenticative cases at hand. 
I shall confine myself to typical cases which open up many 
vistas for speculation and profound inquiry, while they mate- 
rially aid in completely revolutionizing old ideas and popular 
conceptions as to the limitations of the human mind. The 
first illustration I wish to introduce reveals the power of the 
human mind under certain conditions to receive and hold 
mental pictures, which afterward may express themselves 
upon the body of the individual in such a manner as to pro- 
duce well-defined diseases, which naturally resist the well- 
intentioned drugging of the physician who blindly attacks 
the symptoms in his ignorance of the cause of the misery. In 
Professor James' thoughtful paper on "The Hidden Self," 
he cites at length a most interesting and suggestive case, 
primarily recorded by M. Pierre Janet, Professor of Philoso- 
phy in tiie Lycee of Havre, in his volume entitled "De 1' 
Automatisme Psychologique." f 

In presenting this case I cannot do better than give verba- 
tim Professor James' admirable summary, which is as fol- 
lows : — 

* From IS.-.o to ISCOIivi.iictisiii was used on a lar^e ^cmIo by Dr. Es.lailp, lienc! surgeon 
at till' li(»iiital of Calcutla. In >ix years lie perlMniicd -ix iiuu'lr.'.l ..[h rations on 
bviiuotized ]liu(l(Mis, and a, minniittee of surgeons and |.li\ -iiians apin liiitcd by the 
Indian i;(iveriiiuent ti-stiiieil to his ureat success, wlii<'li was (diietly derivcci irom the 
fact that the most ditticult oiierati<ins coidd uMially he made without a sifin of pain 
from the patient, and witliout inenmrv when tlie\ awaked, of what had been done to 
them. The Hindoos, liowivcr, are said to In- very susceptible to hypnotism.— [Dr. 
Frederick Bjornstriun, in his work on Hypnotism.] 

t This work comprises about five hundred pages. It served as the author's thesis 
for doctorate of Science in Paris and produced a great sensation when given to the 
scientific world. 



166 persons, places auC) 1It)eas. 

The story is that of a young girl of nineteen named Marie, 
who came to the hospital in an almost desperate condition, with 
monthly convulsive crises, chill, fever, delirium, attacks of terror, 
etc., lasting for days, together with various shifting anaesthesias 
and contractures all the time, and a fixed blindness of the left 
eye. At first M. Janet, divining no particular psychological 
factor in the case, took little interest in the patient, who re- 
mained in the hospital for seven months, and had all the usual 
courses of treatment applied, including water-cure and ordinary 
hypnotic suggestions, without the slightest good effect. 

She then fell into a sort of despair, of which the result was to 
make JM. Janet try to throw her into a deeper trance, so as to get, 
if possible, some knowledge of her remoter psychologic antece- 
dents, and of the original causes of the disease, of which, in the 
waking state and in ordinary hypnotism, she could give no 
detinite account. He succeeded even beyond his expectations ; 
for both her early memories and the internal memory of her 
crisis returned in the deep somnambulism, and she explained 
three things : her periodical chill, fever and delirium were due 
to a foolish immersion of herself in cold water at the age of 
thirteen. The chill, fever, etc., were consequences which then 
ensued ; and now, years later, the experience then stamped in 
upon the brain for the first time was repeating itself at regular 
intervals in the form of an hallucination undergone by the sub- 
conscious self, and of which the primar3' personality only expe- 
rienced the outer results. The attacks of terror were accounted 
for by another shocking experience. At the age of sixteen she 
had seen an old woman killed by falling from a height ; and the 
sub-conscious self, for reasons best known to itself, saw fit to 
believe itself present at this experience also whenever the other 
crises came on. The hysterical blindness of her left eye had the 
same sort of origin, dating back to her sixth year, wlien she had 
been forced, in spite of her cries, to sleep in the same bed with 
another child, the left half of whose face bore a disgusting erup- 
tion. Tlie result was an eruption on the same parts of her own 
face, which came back for several years before it disappeared 
entire!}'-, and left behind it an anaesthesia of the skin and the 
blindness of the eye. So much for the origin of the poor girl's 
various afflictions. Now for the cure ! The thing needed was, 
of course, to get the sub-conscious personality to leave off having 
these senseless hallucinations. But they had become so stereo- 
typed and habitual that this proved no easy task to achieve. 
Simple commands were fruitless ; but M. Janet at last hit upon 
an artifice, which shows how many resources the successful mind- 
doctor must possess. He carried the poor Marie back in imagi- 
nation to the earlier dates. It proved as easy with her as with 



HDvpuotism. 167 

many othurs when entranced, to produce the hallucination that 
she was again a child, all taat was needed being an impressive 
affirmation to that effect. Accordingly M. Janet, replacing her 
in this wise at the age of six, made her go through the bed-scene 
again, but gave it a different denouement. He made her believe 
that the horrible child had no eruption and was charming, so that 
she was finally convinced, and caressed without fear this new 
object of her imagination. He made her re-enact the scene of 
the cold immersion, but gave it also an entirely different result. 
He made her live again through the old woman's accident, but 
substituted a comical issue for the old tragical one which had 
made so deep an impression. The sub-conscious Marie, passive 
and docile as usual, adopted these new versions of the old tales; 
and was apparently either living in monotonous contemplation of 
them or had become extinct altogether when M. Janet wrote his 
book. For all morbid symptoms ceased as if by magic. " It is 
five months," our author says, " since these experiments were 
performed. Marie shows no longer the slightest mark of hysteria. 
She is well, and, in particular, has grown quite stout. Her 
physical aspect has absolutely changed." 

A number of similar illustrations might be given, indica- 
ting the susceptibility of the mind in certain conditions to 
receive mental pictures, which later, sometimes many years 
elapsing, are developed in such a manner as to produce the 
most aggravated symptoms of disease in the physical body;, 
disease which naturally baffles the ordinary drug treatment; 
indeed, within the past few months I have had my attention 
called to some most remarkable cases, in many respects 
similar to that of Marie, in so far as they relate to severe 
illness resulting as the expression or development of a fear 
arising from mental pictures of death photographed on the 
mind in former years, and which stubbornly resisted the 
usual medical treatment. When, however, the true cause 
was revealed, and the image or photograph erased or sug- 
gested away, rapid recovery followed. Do not understand 
me to affirm that all sickness is the result of mental pictures, 
but incontrovertible facts, observed by the most reliable and 
unquestionable authorities, do indicate that in some condi- 
tions the human mind receives upon its marvelously sensi- 
tive plate, impressions much as the phonograph receives and 
treasures up the most delicate notes of the human voice. 
The possibilities of this power as revealed in the above illus- 
tration, and others which might be cited from equally relia- 



168 persons, places auD IF^eas* 

ble authorities, open a new vista for human thought, and 
aside from the hint of vast and far-reaching significance 
which they give to the medical workl, they open a sugges- 
tive line of thought for scientists and philosophers. Are 
hysterical and extremely nervous cases like that of Marie the 
only brains susceptible to mental pictures, or is it more proba- 
ble that they are no exceptions to the general rule in so far as 
the power of the human mind extends, but that the weakened 
condition of the nervous system in these cases calls out, 
develops, or intensifies pictures which suggest death ? Is it 
not reasonable to suppose that the human mind may catch 
and hold all thoughts and impressions, all pictures and sounds 
which enter the brain? We cannot understand exactly how 
the fruit-bearing plant catches, appropriates, and holds in 
the laboratory of its being that wonderful fragrance, delicate 
flavor and the rich, luscious pulp of the fruit which follows 
the beautiful and often many-tinted bloom. To me it seems 
more probable that the conditions exhibited in the special 
cases which are usually termed hysterical, are merely the 
coming to the surface of some of the hidden mysteries of 
mind, than that an instrument which by nature and construc- 
tion was not intended to secure and hold enduring impres- 
sions should be, through nervous disorder, so radically, nay, 
almost functionally, changed as to receive impressions or 
pictures and retain them for years, later expressing them 
on the body, as in the case of " Marie." An illustration 
which is important in its bearing on this thought, is given 
by Prof. J. Luys, member of the Academy of Medicine of 
Paris. In speaking of the power of hypnotism to bring 
out the hidden, unsuspected treasures of the mind he says, 
in the course of an able paper in an English review : — 

I once heard a young married lad}^ Avho had listened to one of 
my lectures repeat the lecture several months afterwards in a 
state of somnambulism with the utmost accuracy, reproducing like 
a phonograph the very tones of my voice, using every gesture 
that I used, and adapting, too, in a remarkable way, her words to 
her subject. A year afterwards this lady had still the same ca- 
pacity, and displayed it every time she was put into a state of 
somnambulism. And, extraordinary as it may seem, when once 
awakened she was utterly unable to repeat to me a single word 
of the lecture. She said she did not listen to it, she understood 
not a word of it, and could not say a single line. 



Ib^pnotism, i69 

I am aware that it will be urged that while in cases like 
Marie's the mind seems largely to dominate the body, indeed 
so much so as to render the patient a physical wreck until the 
hypnotizer eradicates the morbid pictures, nevertheless these 
are troubles more or less dependent upon the nervous organ- 
ism which it is now being grudgingly granted is largely 
under the dominion of the mind.* 

The narration of a series of experiments which I will now 
give, however, carries us a step further, demonstrating that 
through hypnotism sensation may be abolished, false sensa- 
tion may be established, and that in some cases, at least, 
results do not necessarily end with the waking of the sub- 
ject. Some of these instances have great scientific value, 
revealing, or at least hinting at, mental possibilities hitherto 
undreamed-of. They demonstrate the power of mind over 
matter (in cases where the subject readily yields to sugges- 
tions) which a few years ago would have been scornfully 
rejected by the scientific world as manifestly absurd and 
impossible. 

The cases in which hypnotism has been substituted for 
ether, chloroform and other anaesthetics, where limbs were 
to be amputated and other serious surgical operations per- 
formed, are now so common as to no longer occasion sur- 
prise, and for lack of space I will content myself with citing 
a few lines from Prof. Wm. James' Psychology: — 



*In speaking of the power of snp:.c;estion on the nervous organism, Bjornstrom says : — 

The whole motor apparatus also mav, hv degrees or all at once, become the object 
of negative suggestion, and bv this all kinds of lameness or paralysis lau be caused. 

Also, independently of hvpnciisin. lamciiess has been found as the result of purely 
psvchical causes. Iii 1869.'Russrl Urviiolds. the prominent English pliysician, pub- 
lished a case of lameness in consequence of spontaneous imagination ol the sutterer 
( " dependent on idea" ). A young tiirl lived alone with her father, who, after various 
sorrows and reverses, grew lame. In order to suii]>ort the family the girl had to give 
lessons, and for this purpose had to walk loni: distances. With anxiety she soon 
besan to think that she also miffht become lame, and that their condition would then 
become still worse. Under the influence of thi- idea, which never left her, she began 
to feel her legs grow weaker and weaker, until she could no longer walk. R., who 
soon understood the cause, adopted an exclusively mental treatment; he gradually 
convinced her that she was able to walk, and she soon became entirely well. 

Charcot, Bernheiin, an<l others have, however, produced the greatest number of 
proofs of how easilv paralvsis is caused bv hvpnotic suggestion. Here the lameness 
mav be confined to one muscle, or to a whole limb, or to certain combined muscular 
movements concerned in a certain action - sncli as sewing, writing, smoking, sing- 
ing, speakinc, plavinc on the piano, stan.liu'^, walking, etc., etc. By negative sugges- 
tion, such anaesthesia can be pro(lncc<l just as well as systematized paralysis. It 
would take too much space further to discuss the many kinds of paralysis that can be 
caused, not only with reference to the external result, but with reference to the inter- 
nal mechanism. 

According to Voisin's experience, mental diseases of many years' standing have 
thus been cured in two or three stances. Hysterical persons have proved most sus- 
ceptible to the method, but he has also succeeded with epileptics, dipsomaniacs, and 
others mentally diseased. Finally Voisin exclaims: "It would be fortunate for the 
mentally diseased, if they were all susceptible to hypnotism." 



170 persons, places ant) H^eas. 

Legs and breasts may be amputated, children born, teeth ex- 
tracted, in short the most painful experiences undergone, with no 
other anresthetic than the hypnotizer's assurance that no pain 
shall be felt. Similarly morbid pains may be annihilated, neural- 
gias, toothaches, rheumatisms cured. The sensation of hunger 
has thus been abolished, so that a patient took no nourishment 
for fourteen days. 

Phenomena, however wonderful they may be, which occur 
when patients are in the trance, are less important to us in 
our present pursuit than those Avhich affect the patient in 
such a manner as to reveal the power of mind over body 
in a waking condition. Such, for instance, as when the 
hypnoiizer suggests that he has dropped some boiling oil, 
water or wax on the patient, when in reality lie only places 
a little cold water or touches the surface with his finger. 
After the subject awakens, however, inflammatory symptoms 
are soon visible, and a blister ensues, as aggravated in every 
respect as if the subject had actually suffered from boiling 
wax, oil, or water. Experiments of this character have 
repeatedly been made by Professor Charcot, of Paris, and 
numbers of other scientists. In the July issue of the Pro- 
ceedings of the English Society for Psychical Research, Dr. 
Alfred Backman, of Kaimar, a well-known Swedish physi- 
cian and writer, gives the following interesting account of 
an experiment of this character : — 

The subject whom I consider my best clairvoyant is named 
Alma Radberg. She is a maid-servant, and is now aged about 
twenty-six. As a child and young girl she was sickly and deli- 
cate, but now, after a course of hypnotic treatment, she is healthy, 
strong, and vigorous. She is a very pious and good girl, of some 
intelligence, and by no means a hysterical person. She has 
kindly allowed me and some others to make innumerable experi- 
ments on her, and she is extremely susceptible to suggestion, both 
awake and hypnotized. All kinds of experiments, such as stig- 
matization, etc., have been made on her successfully, both in the 
Avaking and the hypnotic state. I may relate in passing one in- 
stance that seems to me remarkable. In the middle of an experi- 
ment, I ])ut a drop of water on her arm, suggesting to her that it 
Avas a drop of burning sealing wax, and that it would produce a 
blister. During the progress of the experiment, I accidentally 
touched the water, making it spread on her skin, whereupon I 
hastened to wipe it away. The blister, which a]ipeared the next 
day, extended as far as the water had run, just as if it had been 
a corroding acid. 



IfD^puottsm. i"i 

I now give .some still more interesting experiments of this 
character, related by Bjurnstriim in his work on hypnotism : — 

We begin with Beaunis' experiment of clianging the beatin2:s 
of the heart by suggestion. Botli Liebault and Beaunis had 
noticed tliat hy suggestion tliey could relieve palpitation and 
regulate the action of the heart in somnambulists. This subject B. 
submitted to strictly scientific investigation with the aid of the 
usual instruments of physiologists for recording the movements 
of the heart ; and he found clear proofs of the fact, that the 
heart could be made by suggestion to beat more slowly or more 
rapidly, probably by stimulating or paralyzing action on the in- 
hibitory centres of the heart. 

But this is not all; by suggestion a much more heightened 
effect can be produced in this direction. The congestion may be 
carried still furtlier — to a raised swelling of the skin, to a blister 
(as from Spanish flies). Concerning this, Beaunis relates the 
follownig experiment, for the truth of which he vouches. A 
skilled physiologist and experienceii experimentalist, he would not 
allow himself to be easily deceived. 

The experiments Avere made on a young girl — Elise F., — first 
by Facachon, then also by Beaunis. One day, when Elise com- 
plained of a pain in the left groin, F. made her believe, after he 
had hypnotized her, that a blister would form on the aching spot, 
just as from a plaster of Spanish tlies. The next morning, there 
appeared on the left groin a blister filled with serum, although 
nothing had been ai)plied there. 

On another occasion, he cured neuralgia in the region of the 
right clavicle by merely causing, by suggestion, a blister resem- 
bling in every respect an ordinary burn. Afterwards several such 
experiments were successfully made on Elise. We quote only 
one, which was made under the closest control, before the eyes of 
several scientists — Beaunis, Liebault, and others. On the twelfth 
of May, in 18S5, Elise was hypnotized toward 11 a. m. On her 
back, at a point which the girl could not possibly reach with her 
hand, a strip of eight gummed stamps was fastened, after a strip 
of the same kind had for eighteen hours been applied to the arm 
of another person, without causing the slightest effect. Over the 
stamps an ordinary bandage was fixed, so as to simulate a plaster 
of Spanish flies, and she was three times given to understand that 
Spanish flies had been applied to lier. She was closely watched 
during the day and Avas locked up alone in lier chamber over 
night, after she had been put in hypnotic sleep with the assertion 
that she was not going to awake until seven o'clock on the follow- 
ing morning, — ■ which took place punctually. An hour later, 
F. removed the bandage in the presence of Bernheim, Liegeois, 



172 persons, places an^ UDeas. 

Liebault, Beaunis, etc. It was first ascertained that the 
stamps had not been disturbed. They were removed and the 
underlying surface of the skin now showed the following changes : 
on a space of four or five centimetres the epidermis was thicker, 
yellowish white, and infiamed, but as yet not raised into blisters; 
the surrounding skin showed intense redness and swelling to the 
extent of Jialf a centimetre. The spot was covered with a dry 
compress, in order to be further investigated later on ; three 
hours after, the spot had the same appearance. At 4 p. m, the 
spot was photographed, and it now showed four or five blisters, 
which also plainly appeared in the ])hotogi"aph. These blisters 
gradually increased and secreted a thick, milky serum. On the 
twenty-eighth of May — fourteen da3-s later — the spot was still 
in full suppuration. 

On the thirtieth of May, F. produced by suggestion another 
Spanish fly blister on her arm. 

This case is not the onlj^ one. On another girl — Marie G. — who 
had for three months suffered greatly from neuralgia, F. produced 
by suggestion two such blisters in succession, each the size of a 
five-franc piece, one below the left ear, the other on the left tem- 
ple. These required forty-eight hours to become fully develoj^ed. 
The neuralgia disappeared after twelve hypnotic seances. After 
these successes, F, tried on Elise an experiment in the opposite 
direction, that is, by negative suggestion to make a real Spanish 
fly plaster inactive. For this purpose a plaster was cut into thiee 
parts ; the first was applied to Elise's left arm, the second to her 
right arm, the third on a sick person who needed such treatment. 
Elise was hypnotized and F. made her believe that the plaster on 
her left arm would not have any effect. This took place at 11 
A. M. Elise Avas closely watched until 8 p. m., when the ban- 
dage was removed, after F. had satisfied himself that it had not 
been disturbed. On her left ai-m the skin was unchanged, on her 
right the skin was red and showed the beginning of a formation 
of a blister. The plaster was again ap])lied ; after three-quar- 
ters of a hour a normal blister was found on the right arm, but 
on the left — nothing. 

The third piece, which was placed on the abdomen of the 
other patient, had raised a large blister after eight hours. 

Several other physicians have related similar facts. As early 
as 1840, Louis Prejalmini, the Italian physician, mentions similar 
experiments, when with " magnetized paper " he caused the same 
effect as Avith Spanish files. It is evident that the active cause 
was not the magnetized paper, but the suggestion. 

Sometliing perhaps no more remarkable, but interesting as 
giving further proof of the potential power of mind over 



•ffD^pUOtism. 173 

matter, is seen in the following experiment related by Prof. 
Wni. James in his Psychology : — 

Changes in the nutrition of the tissues may be produced by 
suggestion. These effects lead into therapeutics — a subject 
which I do not propose to treat here. But I may say that there 
seems no reasonable ground for doubting that in certain chosen 
subjects the suggestion of a congestion, a burn, a blister, a raised 
papule, or bleeding from the nose or skin, may produce the 
effect. Messrs. Beaunis, Berjon, Bernheim, Bourru, Burot, 
Charcot, Delboeuf, Dumontpalher, Facachon, Forel, Jendrassik, 
Krafft-Ebing, Liebault, Liegeois, Lipp, Mabille and others have 
recently vouched for one or other of these effects. Messrs. 
Delboeuf and Liegeois have annulled by suggestion, one the 
effects of a burn, the other of a blister. Delboeuf was led to 
his experiments after seeing a burn on the skin produced by sug- 
gestion, at the Salpetriere, by reasoning that if the idea of 
a pain could produce inflammation it must be because pain was 
itself an inflammatoiy irritant, and that the abolition of it from a 
real burn ought, therefore, to entail the absence of inflammation. 
He apjMed the actual cautery [as well as vesicants] to symmet- 
rical places on the skin, affirming that no pain should be felt on 
one of the sides. The restdt teas a dry scorch on that side, with 
[as he assures me] no after-murh, but on the other side a regular 
blister with suppuration and a subsequent scar. This explains 
the innocuity of certain assaults made on subjects during trance. 
To test simulation, recourse is often had to sticking pins under 
their finger-nails or through their tongue, to inhalations of strong 
ammonia, and the like. These irritations, when not felt by the 
subject, seem to leave no after-consequences. 

A great number of similar cases of the most authentic 
character might be cited. I, however, have found it neces- 
sary to confine myself to brief summaries of interesting 
experiments by eminent scientific specialists, which clearly 
hint at the power of the human mind. And what a world 
of thought these clearly demonstrated facts open up. How 
many legitimate inferences are in them embodied, as for 
example (1) the power of the mind to catch, hold, and per- 
haps in after years express the mental picture received in 
former years, as illustrated in the first class of cases cited. 
(2) The absolute domination of the human will by another 
mind, even to the degree of obliteration of consciousness and 
sensation, so that at the suggestion of the operator, a patient 
may imagine he is enjoying a delicious banquet, at the very 



174 persons, places aub UDeas. 

time when a limb is being amputated. (3) The absolute 
power of mind over matter, as emphaszied in the cases cited 
by Doctors Bjornstrom and Backman, and Professor Wm. 
James. Of course it must be understood that these results 
were obtained onl}- in cases where the subjects were 
peculiarly sensitive to the suggestion of the hypnotizer, 
where the mind was plastic as clay in the hand of the sculp- 
tor. Yet it none the less proves the potential power of the 
human mind over even the flesh of the body. It serves 
clearly to reveal, as I have before observed, a potential 
supremacy of mind over matter undreamed of a generation 
ago. For, after granting that the subjects come under this 
power only by virtue of a negative condition of the mind or 
a weakened nervous condition, they indicate none the less 
significantly the power of the mind over the body. Indeed 
we could not expect a more general exhibition of receptivity 
of the power of the mind, when we consider the natural 
result of ages of education, when notwithstanding all talk 
to the contrary, the mind has in reality been subordinated to 
the appetites, the passions and desires of the body; while 
philosophy, as well as physical science, have for generations 
schooled the human intellect to look with suspicion on 
everything save what appealed to the physical senses; 
hence all mental phenomena necessarily encounter among 
the educated, the repellant waves of incredulity, even when 
there is an absence of actual hostility. In this connection it 
is interesting to note the observations of Drs. Milne Bram- 
well and Lloyd Storr Best in an able paper on hypnotism in 
The Neiv Revieiv : — 

On the other hand, the powpr of suggestion to produce sleep 
cnnnot be denied, nor can hysterical subjects be regarded as 
alone presenting the phenomena of hj^imotism in their complete 
development. 

Tlie writers of the present paper, having carefully repeated the 
most important experiments of the Nancy school, are convinced 
of the truth of Liebault's statement, that i)ersons in the enjoy- 
ment of perfect health are often extremely susceptible to hypnotic 
influence. 

Profoundly interested in the science, and wishing to verify the 
extraordinary results obtained by the school of Nancy, we insti- 
tuted some time back a series of experiments, taking as subjects 
any healthy male who would voluntarily submit to the trial. 
Tliese experiments were eminently successful, for out of a total of 



IFD^puotism. 175 

fifty cases not only was there no single instance of failure, but in 
the great majority complete somnambulism was produced. 

Great misconception appears to exist in England concerning the 
number and nature of those who may be hypnotized ; instance the 
following quotation from "Science Jottings " in the Illustrated 
London JYeios, May 3,1890: — "It is impossible to hypnotize 
everyone ; and, as far as my experience of it goes, only in the 
case of the intellectually sensitive — shall I add weak? — can hyp- 
notism hope to secure its most characteristic effects." The emi- 
nent physiologist Beaunis is, on the contrary, of the opinion that 
everyone is more or less susceptible to hypnotic influence, and 
our own experience goes far to confirm this, for out of several 
hundreds of patients treated hypnotically we have not yet met 
with one whom we might fairly class amongst the " non-influ- 
ences." 

As to the nature of those who are most easily influenced, 
we And the greatest difficulty presented in cases such as those 
above quoted, while educated non-neurotic subjects, who are 
capable of concentrating their attention on the mental picture of 
sleep presented to them, are nearly if not quite as easily hypno- 
tized as the credulous j)easant. 

This goes far toward confirming our view, that it is more 
reasonable to regard the phenomenon of the mind controlling 
the body [to such an extent as that given above] as the revela- 
tion of power inherent in mind, but weakened and no 
longer assertive through centuries of false education, in 
which the body has received supreme attention along these 
special lines, than to sup[)()se that this marvelous extension 
of the limitations of mind, this supremacy of mind over 
body, is due merely to a diseased or immature state of the 
mind, as is argued by the same conservative thinkers who 
first dogmatically denied the possibility of the hypnotic 
power, then grudgingly admitted to it in rare cases of 
hysterical females, and who now declare that it is merely 
the outcropping of a rapidly disappearing and immature state 
of man's mental and nervous organism. Another thought in 
this connection is valuable, and that is, the value of hyp- 
notism as a moral asfent.* A gfreat number of drunkards have 



*I am aware of the great cry which has q:one forth as to the dang:ers of hypnotism, 
nor woulil I ill anv wav miiiifv the (lanuer. \11 sreat discoveries carry with them 
the iHi-siliilitiosd'f cvii. Tala- for rxiiiiiplc rlnrricity or steam, which in the hands of 
the ignorant or evilv iUs]i(i-e(l iiiav work -n-.ir iiijurv andbe a terrible curse. Even the 
brilliant iiower of the orator if unaccompanied bv moral rectitude, may prove a preat 
curse, as has so often been exhibited. So hypnotism in the hands of the ignorant 
or the base may and often has proved a terrible curse. This, however, is no reason 
whvit should be discarded, nor does it prove that it is in itself injurious. While on 
the other hand Drs. Bramwell and Best, quoted elsewhere, declare that where proper 



176 persons, places auD llDeas. 

been redeenied through this agency, while criminal propen- 
sities in children have been greatly modified, and in many 
instances entirely removed, by suggestions. Liebault claims 
to have employed hypnotism as a moral agent in several 
thousands of cases, always with beneficial results. While 
in reply to the cry so frequently raised by conservative phy- 
sicians who know little about hypnotism, that it weakens 
the mind. Dr. Hamilton Osgood, one of the leading physi- 
cians of Boston, and a gentleman who has had probably 
greater experience in suggestion than any other New Eng- 
land doctor, declares that in his practice he has seen nothing 
but beneficial results and increasing vigor, mental as well 
as bodily, from its employment when indicated. 

IV. 

In this paper, ni}^ first purpose was to indicate the fact 
that even in the scientific world, the old ideas of mental 
limitation have radically changed. The closed door has been 
23artially opened. We have caught a glimpse of the potential- 
ity of the Imman mind. Moreover, evidence of the most un- 
questioned character is day by day being accumulated, which 

precantions are taken, no injurious effects will follow hypnotism, when intelligent 
and conscientious persons exercise tliis power. On this point these physicians 
declare : 

" At the commencement of our hypnotic practice we were much perplexed by the 
difficulty of flndins some efficient means of preserving the personality and will of 
patients intact. We were fortunate enough, however, to diso<)\ ^r w hat has. u]) to the 
present, proved a perfect safeguard, which consists in the <nii>tai]t inculcatidu 
during hypnosis of two idees fixes to the effect that no one shmild he ahle tn liy|iu(itize 
the patient without his express jiermission, and that nosugge.slidu shuuhl beellectual 
which would be disapprove! liy liiin in his normal condition. This precaution has 
been found thus far eminent i\ -uii-iactory. 

"Once let the general 1111 111 ie h.- m.nie acquainted with the necessity of the above- 
mentioned precautions, ami all ilauLier of undue intluenee being exerted by the 
medieal man will \ani-li. Aii\ pi'i-.,ii presenting himself for hypnotic treatment 
would hi iie^ \\ nil hiiii a tni-ted 1 riiiid, wlio slmuld see that these two ideas were 
suggested \n liini ai each li\pii(it i/al inn, until iircdound hypnosis was produced." 

Dr. Hamilioii (»-u.>oil, in' an ahle atldress before the Boston Society for Medical 
Improvemeiii , i.h-cr\cs: "In a letter I have just received from Lit^bault, he says, 
' The accideni- m h\iniotism are due wholly to the ignorant or giddy tricks of the 
operator,' and, lie continues: "In the I'eriie de V HyimotAsme for December last, 
Bernheim gives utterance to his latest views after nine years of hypnotic practice, 
■with reference to the dangers of hypnotism." In this extract from a lecture to his 
students, he says : " Does suggestion as we practise it, with a therapeutic object, 
present any danger whatever? ... It is a singular thing that some years ago. I 
recall that when a practice more bloody than "hypnotism — ovariotomy — made its 
entrance into modern surgery, eminent professors in the society of surgery were 
found, who said : ' This operation belongs to the office of the public executioner.' 
To-day, ovariotomy no longer has .nny enemies. One. goes so far as to perform the 
operation upon thi- hy<rcrical nndei' pretext of curing them. Ko \ni,c is raised 
against this pniccdnic, hut anaihcnias are poured ui)o'n the inoffeii-i\c --iii:uc-tion 
which does cure li\>tcria. 1 apijcal to the numerous students and collcamic~. who for 
several years lia\e followed my clinic : If you have seen a solitary fact wliicli bears 
v;itness to a serious inconvenience in the suggestive method, "when well applied, 
announce it. 

" I have seen many neuroses cured ; I have never seen one caused by suggestion. I 
have seen the intelligence restored ; I have never seen a mind enfeebled by suggestion." 



IfDppnotism, 177 

indicates the opening of vistas in psychical realms far more 
surprising and suggestive than those already exhibited in 
hypnotism which are accepted by science. Such discoveries 
as that referred to by Prof. Oliver Lodge in the follow- 
ing extract from his annual address, elsewhere mentioned: — 

It is possible tliat an idea can be transferred from one person to 
another by a process such as we have not yet grown accustomed 
to, and know practically nothing about. In this case I have 
evidence. I assert that I have seen it done, and am perfectly' 
convinced of the fact. Many others are satisfied of the truth of 
it too. Why must we speak of it with bated breath, as of a thing 
of which we are ashamed? What right have we to be ashamed 
of a truth '? 

This strange phenomenon is popularly termed telepathy. 
The evidences of clairvoyance or of soul projection, automatic 
writing, and other remarkable psychic phenomena are being 
rapidly accumulated since sincere and patient scientific think- 
ers have engaged in the work. It will take much time to 
overcome the prejudice which exists in the popular mind, 
and to accumulate such a mass of indisputable evidence as to 
compel the tardy acce])tance of those eminent in other fields 
of thought, who without examination have scornfully dis- 
missed the subject; yet enough has been given to the world 
to convince those who are searching for the truth that we are 
on the threshold of a new realm of discovery, — a realm which 
may some day mark another step in man's evolutionary 
progress. Let us not be dogmatic, ever remembering the 
thoughtful words of Braid, "Unlimited scepticism is equally 
the child of imbecility as implicit credulity." 



Crucial flDoincnts in IRational %\tc. 



Humanity is rising. Life, as a wliole, is ascending. This fact 
will become obvious if we trace the progress of man from the 
dawn of history to the present time, in such a comprehensive 
manner as to include the people in the aggregate rather than 
special classes, and when Ave also bear in mind the fact that 
races, civilizations and nations, no less than individuals, have 
their periods of " depression and exaltation," that at moments in 
the existence of peoples and nationalities, no less than in the 
course of individual development, great crises arise. Two gates 
open before the people; two paths are visible; a choice is 9nade 
between self love and divine love. Then one gate closes, and for 
a generation, a century or a cycle, the life of the nation, race or 
civilization slowly rises or falls. These supreme moments are 
destiny-tixing in character ; they give a trend to thought, and 
thought coloi's life. If the higher impulses rule, if the divine 
rises superior to the animal, or, in a woi'd, if the spirit of "All 
for all" is more potent tlian the spirit of "All for self," the 
civilization, race or nation is rejuvenated. It receives a moral 
•uplift — a baptism from above, which is the o,i't/gen of the higher 
life. 

While, however, it is true that taken as a whole, and compar- 
ing various stages of deiu-ession and exaltation with correspond- 
ing stages in the ebb and flow of nations and civilizations, it Avill 
be found that humanity is slowly rising, tlie important fact must 
not be ignored that the rise of man is accelerated or retarded by 
the influence of the individual. No one is absolutely negative. 
Every life exerts an upvmrd lift or a dowmcard jyressure, and 
therefore a grave responsibility rests upon each human soul. 
When individuals forget the sacred duty imposed upon them and 
abandon the cause of justice, progress and humanity for material 
comfort and selfish gratification, manhood from the zenitli to the 
nadir of social life suffers for the sins committed. When a 
nation comes to worship gold rather than goodness, so that the 
poor and unfortunate are grouiul to servitude, while rare, sensi- 
tive natures, M'hose ideals are high and whose thought runs 
ahead of the time, are systematically misrepresented, abused and 
misinterpreted, that nation enters upon a fatal decline which, 



Crucial /IDoinents in iRatioiial Xite. no 

thongli it may he lingering as a slow consumption, must termi- 
nate in death, unless tlie people can be aroused so that opinion- 
forming currents, which have become polluted by the gold of 
avarice, no longer influence them, and, under the impulsion of a 
new hope and a grim determination to secure justice, an awakened 
manhood succeeds in changing the current of national life. 

When in the history of a nation the shell of conventionalism 
encrusts a civilization, a gross and deadly materialism crushes 
faith and hope, turns the index-finger downwai-d, and sneers at 
the ideals of duty, justice and love by whose leverage the world 
is raised; when human sympathy becomes paralyzed in conse- 
quence of self-absorption ; when capital becomes more precious 
than human rights; when life is less sacred than property; when 
the letter is enlarged and the s\nrit disregarded ; when "theolooy 
magnifies the importance of form, rite and ritual while industry 
begs in vain for employment ; when Avidows starve and orphans 
grow up amid an environment of moral death; when divine love 
is at a discount, and the faith so loudly proclaimed by the lips 
finds no responsive echo in the deep recesses of the soul — then 
we have the melancholy spectacle of a nation which has reached 
a point beyond which it cannot go without forever losing the 
soul which made progress possible, and which alone held the ele- 
ment of perpetual rejuvenation. Then the voice of the divine 
speaks through })rophets, poets and seers, crying " Choose." On 
the one side are duty, justice, love and stern morality; on the 
other the selfishness of pure animalism expressed in luxury, 
voluptuousness and venality. The moment is supreme. The 
coronal region struggles with the basilar for final supremacy, and 
the issue is life or death; not necessarily a sudden going out if 
the lower triumphs, for sometimes, as in the civilization of Rome, 
a slow and terrible agony of decay precedes the final downfall. 

We are to-day facing one of these great crises. Professor 
George D. Herron voices the common conviction of earnest 
students of social conditions when he says : — 

We are in tlie begiuuiugs of a revolution tliat will strain all existing 
religious and political institutions, and test the wisdom and heroism of 
the earth's purest and bravest souls. It will not do to say the revolu- 
tion is not coming, or pronounce it of the devil, devolutions, even in 
their wildest forms, are the impulses of God moving in tides of tire 
through the life of man. 

The slogan cry of "All for all " is far more noble than the 
creed "All for self" Avhicli has held sway in the past. The 
dogma of the divine right of propert}^ has too long obscured the 
rights of man. Plundering by law may be safe, but it is not 
moral, and throwing a few millions of acquired gold into the lap 
of philanthropy, conventional education or a church more awake 



180 persons, places an& UDeas. 

on the material than the spiritual side of her being, may be 
politic, but such acts do not take away the woe pronounced by 
Jesus upon the Pharisees who paid tithes and posed as philan- 
thi-opists while they "devoured widows' houses" and ignored 
the " weightier matters of the law," such as " judgment and 
mercy." 

The hoitl- for dreaming is past. Not a moment is to be lost if 
the republic is to be redeemed. From this time forward plain 
speaking will be in order. The time for the soul to assert its 
supremacy has arrived ; blessed is the man or woman who makes 
the great renunciation, and consecrates life to the caus^ of the 
people and for the restoration of the republic from the rule of 
the Assyrians. 

" Hast thou chosen, O my people, on whose party thou shalt stand, 
Ere the doom from its worn sandals shakes the dust against our land? 
Though the cause of evil prosper, yet 'tis truth alone is strong, 
And, alheit she wander outcast now, I see around her throng 
Troops of beautiful tall angels, to enshield her from all wrong." 

" He's true to God who's true to man; wherever wrong is done, 
To the humblest and the weakest, 'neath the all-beholding sun, 
That wrong is also done to us; and they are slaves most base, 
Whose love of right is for themselves, and not for all their race. 

" 'Tis ours to save our brethren, with peace and love to win 
Their darkened hearts from error, ere they harden it to sin; 
But if before his duty man with listless spirit stands. 
Erelong the Great Avenger takes the work from out his hands." 



IRoom for tbc Soul of flDaiu 



Some poets insist that art must not be made the servant of 
utility. They tell us that poetry, when it descends to plead for 
the oppressed, the poor and the miserable, becomes intolerable — 
mark the Avord "descends." Art for art's sake, and above all, poetry 
for art alone ; such is their creed. Some of these singers dwell 
in the shadows of Niobe, chanting sad, sweet strains ; others iiit 
in joy-lit, love-laden sunbeams, making the heart glad, as swallow- 
like they skim the surface of human emotion. Others there are 
with profounder genius, who sound the depths of the soul and 
stir our inmost being. Still all unite in the clamor of art for art's 
sake. Why should the muse soil her robes with the mud of the 
slums ? Why should the music in her voice carry the heart-cry 
of the starving? Why should the fate of the girl struggling fox- 
virtue in the face of starvation, or the man striving for work that 
his loved ones may not die, concern her? Is she not patrician ? 
Is not her votive shrine unsullied marble? Ah, they tell us that 
Avhen art descends — mark the Avord — to the commonplace 
details of life, poetry takes wings. These champions of art for 
art's sake, sneer at the prophet poets, whose trumpet tones arouse 
the sleeping conscience. They scorn the poets of the people, 
who voice living wrongs, and who unmask injustice endured by 
the poor. « Sing if you will," they say, " of the wrongs of other 
ages — the horrors of classic Greece, the shame of ancient Rome; 
this is legitimate. But do not draggle the stainless rolje of 
poetry in the mud of the present-day misery." This contention 
is not new. It is the old cry of the dilettante against the utili- 
tarian. It is an echo of the vanished past, which conservatism 
treasures as a melody divine. It is the cry of a waning power. 
After the gladiator's brawn came the supremacy of brain. Now 
room for the soul. Art must be rescued from the bondage of 
ages brutalized by the supremacy of selfishness. As long as 
there remains a starving soul, brain, or body, as long as there 
remains a tear un dried or a wrong unrighted, the highest mission 
of poetry and song will be in tlie domain of utility. Victor 
Hugo, the peerless poet prophet of the nineteenth century, has 



182 {persons, places auD ll^eas. 

perhaps better than any one else defended art from lier traducers 
in these thought-freighted words : — 

Be of some service. Do not be fastidious when so much depends on 
being efficient and good. Art for art's sake may be very tine, but art for 
progress is liner still. To dream of castles in Spain is well; to dream of 
Utopia is better. Ah ! you must think? Then think of making man 
better. 

But critics protest: To undertake the cure of social evils, to amend 
the codes, to impeach law in the court of right, to utter those hideous 
words, " penitentiary," " convict-keeper," "galley-slave," " girl of the 
town"; to inspect the police registers, to conduct t\e business of dis- 
pensaries, to study the questions of wages and want of work, to taste the 
black bread of the poor, to scfk labor for the working woman, to con- 
front fashionable idleness with ragged sloth, to tlirow down the parti- 
tion of ignorance, to open schools, to teach little ones how to read; to 
attack shame, infamy, error, vice, crime, want of conscience; to preach 
the multiplication of spelling books, to proclaim the equal right to sun- 
light, to improve the food of intellects and hearts, to give meat and drink, 
to demand solutions for problems, and shoes for naked feet, — these things 
are not the business of the azure. Art is the azure. Yes, art is the 
azure — but the azure from above, whence falls the ray which swells the 
wheat, yellows the maize, rounds the apple, gilds the orange, sweetens 
the grape. Again, I say, a further service is an added beauty. At all 
events, where "is the diminution? To ripen the beet-root, to water the 
potato, to increase the yield of lucern, of clover, or of hay; to be a fel- 
low-workman with the plowman, the vine-dresser and the gardener, — 
this does not deprive the heavens of one star. Ah ! immensity does not 
despise utility. 

Yet people insist that to compose social poetry, human poetry, popu- 
lar poetry, to grumble against the evil and laud the good, to be the 
spokesman of public wrath, to insult despots, to make knaves despair, 
to emancipate man before he is of age, to push souls forward and dark- 
ness backward, to know that there are thieves and tyrants, to clean 
penal cells, to tlush the sewer of i^ublic uncleanness, — shall Polyhymnia 
bare her arm to these sordid tasks? Why not? 

Many of our poets, especially those dear to the hearts of the 
people, have realized that the supreme mission of art -svas to he the 
handmaid of justice, progress and liberty. Whittier appreciated 
this. His heart burned with that ethical fire wdiich sends light- 
ning coursing through the veins of peaceful people when occasion 
demands. On the altar of utility he placed much of his noblest 
Avork. Lowell in his earlier days, before the plaudits of the 
dilettante and the enervating spell of conventionalism tamed the 
fervid zeal of a nature naturally in alignment with the highest 
impulses of justice and freedom, gave us verses which will be 
an inspiration for generations to come. Gerald Massey, perhaps 
more than any other of the people's poets of England which this 
generation has produced, apprehended the true mission of song ; 
and William Morris, in his latest ])oems, shows that the dilettante 
poet of yesterday has been touched by the higher truth. The 
popular poet of to-morrow will be a soul-awakened man. The cry 
of the oppressed for justice, the voice of ignorance j^leading for 



IRoom tor tbc Soul of /iDan. i^-^ 

light, the muffled sob of man-made misery, will l)e ever surging 
in his ear ; compelling him to lay his soul's best gift on the altar 
of ntiUty. 

The age of brawn failed to give man peace and happiness. 
The age of intellectual supremacy has likewise failed to satisfy 
the craving of the human soul. The next step will be into the 
broad domain of ethics, where justice, freedom and fraternity 
will be taken in their broadest significance; where the hoiizon 
will not be limited by i)rejudice nor fettered by ancient thought ; 
where the chains of dogma will fall from the shackled mind, and 
the broad spirit of love will pervade all society. In the ushering 
in of this new order, we mnst summon all that makes for beauty, 
nobility and unfoldment, in ai"t, music and song. They must be 
rallied under the banner of utilitarianism. The highest voicings ' 
of the soiil must permeate every recess of the brain of the mor- 
row. The ideal enunciated by Jesus, the sublime truths which 
haunted the brain of the ancient Stoics of Greece and Rome, the 
vision which was ever Avith Confucius, the lofty craving of 
Gautama, and the evangel sung by the noblest singers of the 
nineteenth century, must be realized — the s<nd must blossom 
with the brain. I re])eat, in the service of the higher civilization, 
now persistently forcing itself upon the conscience of millions of 
thoughtful people, all lives imbued M'ith the thought of the age, 
all brains made luminous with love, must j)lace their chaplets on 
the altar of utility. The poet and the singer must touch the 
hear t of the people. The orator, the minister and the essayist 
of the new time must sink self, sinl: the dogmatism of the bloody 
past, sink the prejudice and bigotry of the night of the ages, and, 
facing the dawn with spirit brave, fearless and loving, demand 
justice for all men. The philosopher and the philanthropist must 
also allow their vision to extend. The present demands palliative 
measures. Do not despise them, O j^hilosopher ; commend, aid 
and assist all work for the amelioration of human misery, pointing 
out, however, that they are, in the nature of things, only tempo- 
rary. Great fundamental economic changes must be brought 
about, O ])hilanthropist ; and the sooner you realize this, the 
better for the generation f)f to-day and the generations yet un- 
born. You cannot cure the ])atient by palliatives. Injustice is 
at the root of the disease. Therefore, while pushing forward 
thy noble labor for palliation, strike hands with the philosopher 
in this new crusade, and let all who love humanity swell the 
anthem of progress. 



^bc auoucit present 



"Life is a mission." —Mazzini. 

" To-day is a king in disguise." —i'mersou. 

" The golden age is before, not behind." — Charles Sumner. 

" To live is to have justice, truth, reason, devotion, probity, sincerity, common 
sense, right, and duty welded into the heart. To live is to know what one' is worth — 
what one can do, and should do. Life is conscieuce." — Victor Hufjo. 

The present is big with possibilities for the human race. 
Evei'V man, woman and child with convictions can be real 
factors in the march of progress. The oppoi'tunities 
afforded to-day come only to those who live in transition 
eras, in periods of widespread and profound unrest. To 
those who desire to help the world onward, but who are 
chafing under the limitations which hedge them round 
about, I would sa}': your opportunities to-day for leaving a 
lasting impression on civilization are far greater than those 
enjoyed by men and women who have occupied more com- 
manding positions in ages marked by contentment, or in 
periods wlien sullen hoj)elessness rankled in the hearts of 
earth's millions. .Vnd this brings me to the point I wish 
to emphasize, because it shows <r//// no man or woman need 
be a cipher in society at the present time. 

Nations and civilizations, no less than individuals, pass 
through great crises or turning points in existence, when 
fate holds up the interrogation point and cries "Choose"; 
and after the choice has been made, periods of comparative 
quiet follow. Sometimes they are eras of contentment, 
when the public mind may be compared to the jiulsatiug 
ocean lulled into a profound calm; there is motion — there 
are the multitudinous wavelets and ripples — but as a whole 
the vast expanse is tranquil. At other times the thought- 
weaves are fatal to growth, because they are poisoned with 
hate, trillions of men and women, having lost hope, feel 
themselves vanquished by cunning or power in a struggle 
for justice, freedom and happiness, and they naturally send 
forth an atmosphere of sullen, hopeless bitterness, while 
from the masterful few in society the dominant or prevail- 
ing spirit is that of the alert conqueror rather than the 
compassionate brother. This condition is especially unfav- 
orable to growth in an upward direction. There may be 
bloody outbreaks, but they are the struggles of brute 



Ube BuGust present. iss 

pitted against brute, a contest in which hate and savageiy 
eclipse the divine, and the immediate result of such strug- 
gles will always be appalling, though to the student of 
history they will occasion no surprise; indeed he will see 
that they have been rendered inevitable through the inhu- 
manity and brutality of man. 

In contrast with these periods of contentment and night- 
mares of hate, there are the epochs of light and growth — 
supreme moments, which accomplish for humanity more 
during the space of a generation than is achieved in cen- 
turies when the brain of man is dormant, or when he lives 
in an atmosphere of despair. These epochs of unrest, 
though they be accompanied by the pangs of labor, are tlie 
birthdays of progress; they lift man from a lower to a 
higher state; they unfold to him a broader horizon than he 
has hitherto conceived to be ]»ossible. Such periods are at 
once the inspiration and the hope of civilization. 

One of the most striking illustrations of a luminous age 
in the annals of a single people is afforded by the history 
of Greece from 500 to 400 B. C. This century witnessed the 
declining years of Pythagoras and the opening manhood of 
Plato. It was also made immortal by .Eschylus — the 
Shakespere of Greece — Sophocles and Euripides; Herodo- 
tus, the father of history; Thucydides, the Athenian histo- 
rian; Xenophon, the soldier and historian; Hippocrates, 
the father of medicine; Pericles, the statesman and ])atron 
of learning and art; Pheidias, the greatest of all sculptors; 
and Socrates. 

In the annals of our civilization the first century of what 
historians term modern times, or the Renaissance, furnishes 
another example of an epoch of unrest, or an age of the 
interrogation point. Here we seen an awakening extending 
over many nations and reflecting the mental and ethical 
conditions of more than one stage of growth, as well as the 
social and national characteristics of various peoples. This 
was the most marked awakening known to w^estern civiliza- 
tion. It w%as an ei'a in wiiich the ])ast and present were 
challenged, and the future critically interrogated. It was 
a time of unrest and of growth, and responding to the exhil- 
arating but disturbing thought-waves which surged over 
western Europe, we find Savonarola, Erasmus, Luther, 
Zwingli, Calvin, Melanchthon, Latimer and Knox calling 
the church to judgment. Rabelais employs the shafts of 
merciless satire against hypocrisy. Sir Thomas IMore 
reveals the essential brutality, injustice and absurdity of 
political and social conditions, by contrasting the civiliza- 



186 persons, places an^ lIDeas. 

tion of bis time with his Utopian commonwealtli. Aii<;elo, 
Kaphael, Da Vinci, Correggio, Titian, and their eompauious 
in the field of art, made the stiff, narrow and wooden paint- 
ings of tlie Darli Ages appear harsli and crude in the i»res- 
ence of truer and freer expressions of genius untrammelled. 
Copernicus interrogated the heavens; ('olumbus discovered 
the New World; \'asco de Cirama reached the Indies by way 
of Cape of Good Hope; Magellan's ships circumnavigated 
the globe. 

The press which Gutenberg invented a few years prior 
to the opening of this century aided marvellously in stimu- 
lating the public mind, which had been already profoundly 
stirred. Colet, in founding the St. I'aul's Latin (irariimar 
School, laid the foundation for humane and rational popular 
education. Caxton's press, which began printing l)ooks in 
the last quarter of the tifteenth century, greatly aided the 
general intellectual awakening in England. And through- 
out Italy, Germany, England, France and the Spanish 
Peninsula, humanity felt the profound agitation which 
beat upon the brain of the age in so marked a way that 
positive and clearly defined revolutions in religion, art, 
science, commerce and politics followed. It was a civili- 
zation-wide awakening, as much grander, broader and 
more far-reaching than the quickening of brain, heart and 
soul in the Periclean Age as a family or group of nations is 
greater than one nation. 

At the present time we are in the midst of a many-sided 
revolution as much more far-reaching in inlluence and 
greater in possibilities than the Renaissance as was that 
period greater than the golden age of Greece. For the 
restless spirit of growth and inquiry which permeates the 
thought of our age is not only found in every field of 
research, but is world-wide in its extent. The telegraph 
and cable have threaded the nations of earth together as 
beads on a single strand, and the utilization of steam has 
brought remote lands within easy distance of one another. 
The revolution in philosophical theories occasioned by the 
wider knowledge resulting from the interchange of the intel- 
lectual concepts of nation with nation, race with race, and 
civilization with civilization, is only equalled by the far- 
reaching infiuence which the marvelous revelations in 
psychical science are exerting. The revolution in 
religious thought occasioned by modern critical methods, 
the discoveries of discre])ancies in the various ancient manu- 
scripts and the new^ truths revealed by arcluT'ological 
research, is only eclipsed by the j^rofound agitation and 



TLbc aiujust present. 187 

change going on throughout Europe, America and Austra- 
lia in regard to social and political economics and educa- 
tional theories. 

These are some of the phenomena which make the present 
the most august moment in the history of civilization, and 
it would seem as though destiny was shaping things so that 
all nations in the world which make any pretence to civili- 
zation, should come under the influence of this world-wide 
mental (juickening. Sui»pose that in 18!):) someone had pre- 
dicted that within two years China would be compelled to 
throw open her ports to civilization and give audience to 
modern progress, and, furthei-more, that the great empire 
would be brought to these momentous concessions by the 
little island nation of Japan. Men woidd have ridiculed 
the idea, if they did not regard it as too wild for even con- 
temptuous notice. All things point to the fact frequently 
predicted by thoughtful philosophers of the Orient that the 
closing years of this century will be a grand climacteric 
period in the history of the world. If is in a rvri/ sixchil 
.s'cy/.sc (/ (/(/// of jiidf/inciit; for, while all days are judgment 
days in that whenever a new truth comes to man it calls him 
to pass upon it, and his passing is in a way his own sentence, 
yet the period upon which we are now entering is a culmina- 
ting moment of world-wide proportion. 

If we take the story of the journeyings of Israel from 
Egypt to Canaan as a marvellous allegory of the progress 
of hunmnity, we may compare mankind at the i»resent 
moment to the Children of Israel when they had reached 
the boundary of Canaan and were listening to the report of 
the s])ies sent to view the land. It is an hour of readjust- 
ment, and of marvellous possibilities for the race, if reason, 
justice and love can be made to conquer ])rejudice, seltism 
and savagery. But it is for the individuals, the nations, 
the civilizations and the races to determim- whether they 
will enter the higher estate where truth shall hold regal 
sway over the mind, where altruism shall dominate the 
heart, and love shall slay hate, or whether, like Israel, 
earth's children shall turn back into the desert to wander 
and to wait for weary generations until the lessons which 
we have so often blindly refused to learn are through 
repeated and bitter experience burned into the soul of a 
wiser posterity. 

The tremendous issues which hang upon the choice of this 
supreme hour should prove sufficient to fire every nnvn and 
woman of conviction, and lead to a groat renunciation — a 
renunciation of the love of self, and dedication of brain, 



188 persons, DMaces anC» 1I&ea3. 

heart and hand to humanity's need. But there is another 
reason why the present speaks in urgent tones to every soul. 
The possibilities for influencing the lives of others were 
never greater, if indeed they were ever so great as to-day, 
because the public mind is in an attitude of expectancy, for 
at every crucial moment like the present the thought-wa^os 
of the nations, civilizations, and peo]>les who come under 
the spell of noble discontent surge to and fro much as do 
the mighty billows of a sea when profoundly moved by a 
great tempest. 

The present is (uif/ust hccausc the spirit of Ood is iiifjrinf/ 
em the iraters of tlioiic/ht, and the coniiiu/ and !/oiii(/ of the 
turhulent waves lash into life or eoiisrioiisness all hat the 
most dormant and self-parali/.zed hrains. At such periodsthe 
brain of man becomes abnormally sensitive; it is as the pre- 
pared i)late of the camera, ready to catch and hold a domi- 
nant idea, an all-mastering ideal, a life-controlling thought; 
or. to change the figure. tJie puhlic mind irseiiddes the iron 
at irhitc lieat nad// to he shaped into sledge Itainniers to 
hreal- the shael:les of honda</e, or to he fonjed into links 
irhieh inai/ enslare. 

To every one — I care not how humble may be his station, 
I care not where or what his position— to every one strong 
enough to do right, is given at this si)lendid moment the 
opportunity to awaken and influence some soul or souls fo 
come into the light. To those who live in hamlets, villages 
and towns, or whose lives may seem very circumscribed, 
I would say: What you lack in station or scope is more 
than made up by the opportunities which the present affords 
to throw a vital thought or a divine ideal into the minds of 
those around you; to impress a young life, or to lead a 
thoughtless brain into the light. 

RenuMuber, moreover, that the peculiar mental attitude 
of humanity to-day is not i)roof against old-tinu' prejudice 
or the subtle poison of ancient ideals. Humanity is rising, 
but we must not forget that man is linked by a thousand 
ties to the lower life from which he has so slowly risen and 
which still holds so strong a sway over the mind of millions. 
We are not so far from the lower animals, not so far from a 
state of barbarism, that we are proof against animalism or 
savagery; it is not safe for men to see blood. And this 
suggests something which illustrates the point I wish lo 
emuhasize touching the dangers which threaten civilization 
from f he presence of strong ])rejudices or passions, and the 
influence of ancient ideals on the mind at a moment of 
expectancy and unrest like the present. 



Ube Biujust IPrcseut. 189 

There never seemed a more hopeful moment for the civili- 
zation of v^estern Europe than that i>resented during the 
heyday of the new learnini"-, when such men as Sir Thomas 
More, Eramus, Colet and their eo-laborers were scattering 
abroad among thinking men and women the noble dream 
of a puritied church and a redeemed society; when justice 
and toleration were being preached, and when the strong 
moral protests of Savonarola, Luther, Zwingli and Melanclv 
tJion were awaking the moral energies of man; while Coper- 
nicus was broadening the conceptions of humanitv in regard 
to the heavens, and while art, science and a higher concep- 
tion of education than man had heretofore entertained 
were taking on marvellous proportions. 

And yet while this glad prophetic song of the dawn was 
still young, when the mind of man was tense and ready to 
receive and act on any powerful or dominant thought or 
ideal, which should be pressed home with intensity and per- 
sistency, the prejudice, dogmatism and bigotry of' conserva- 
tism, and the savagery latent in the heart of man were sud- 
denly aroused and stirred into aggressive activitv by tiie 
upholders of ancient thought, and the Spanish Inquisition 
marked the opening of a night-time for civilization, as terri- 
ble as the promises of dawn had been glorious. Spain 
answered the momentous question of this hour of judgment 
in no uncertain tones. She chose, and her choice was 
marked by persecution and slaughter which still sickens the 
heart of man. The spirit of a savage past dominated, and 
in the midst of her power, glory, pride and prosperity, she 
fell, lu'ostrate and paralyzed, by virtue of her choice of 
deatli instead of life, progress and unequalled glory. 

The sight and smell of human blood is always dangerous 
as is the arousing of the savage in man. Other'nations were 
not slow- to imitate in a milder degree the merciless perse- 
cutions of Spain, and it is a noteworthy fact that in pro])or- 
tion as they turned from the light of tolerance and free 
thought, and disregarded the i)rinciple of the golden rule, 
these nations suffered. The inspiration given by the light 
Avhich came into the hearts of men during the time known 
as the Renaissance, the time of the new learning, and the 
morning of the Reformation, gave to western civilization a 
powerful imi)etus toward the day, and the number of indi- 
viduals who chose the light was' at this time so large that 
civilization went forward, slowly and lamely, it is true, but 
her movement was onward and upw^ard. This illustration 
from the history of the most marked of the great awaken- 
ings of our western civilization is especially worthy of con- 



190 persons, places an^ H^eas. 

sideration at the present time, inasmuch as the spirit of 
religious intolerance and unreasoning prejudice is alreadv 
being manifested throughout the Christian world. 

Another ominous shadow creeping across the sky of 
civilization, which at the present time is so laden with 
promises of triumph and progress, calls for attention, for it 
is a grave menace to all that is finest and best in the dawn 
of to-day. I refer to the general fostering of the military 
spirit in young and old, and the astounding attempt on the 
part of t'ertain literary journals and publishing houses of 
the Old World and the New to create an interest and 
admiration for Napoleon — one of the most perfect 
manifestations of an incarnate demon of conscience- 
less ambition and destructive war afforded by the 
annals of the ages. In many cases this despoiler 
of nations and arch butcherer of mankind has 
been idealized and rendered a hero. In other instances, 
while the portrayal has been more impartial, the glamour of 
war and victory has been so thrown over the pages which 
describe the life of this colossal failure, this scourge of the 
race, that the effect upon the expectant public mind at the 
present time cannot be other than most unfortunate; espe- 
cially since the church, which claims to be the home of the 
Prince of Peace, is at the same time displaying unprece- 
dented activity in instructing her young in military drill and 
the manual of arms, thereby associating with religious 
ideals the images of war and visions of soldier life in the 
youthful mind. 

This military craze rampant in governmental, educa- 
tional and religious circles, and this attempt to rivet the 
attention of the tense mind upon the master murderer and 
tyrant of the past is the most ominous spectre which 
darkens the sky of our present civilization, and it is sadden- 
ing and discouraging w^hen we remember that arbitration, 
or the settlement of national and international disputes 
rationally, has recently proved so successful that many of 
the finest minds of our century believed that Christian 
civilization had at last risen above the level of the savage 
brute, and that instead of wanton murder and the measure- 
less waste, desolation and destruction of war, we should 
hereafter see all disputes and misunderstandings settled 
reasonably and justly by an impartial court of intelligent 
human beings. Believing that man had reached a point in 
his slow ascent where he might begin to lay claim to being 
a rational creature, Victor Hugo thus characterizes the 
vision of the incoming day: 



ITbe Biujust present. i9i 

"The diminution of men of war, of violence, of prey, tlie 
indefinite and superb expansion of men of thought and 
peace; the entrance of the real heroes upon the scene of 
action; this is one of the greatest facts of our era. There 
is no more sublime spectacle — mankind's deliverance from 
above; the potentates put to flight by the dreamers; the 
prophet crushing the hero; the sweeping away of violence 
by thought. Lift up your eyes; the supreme drama is enact- 
ing! The legions of light are in full possession of the sword 
of Hame. The masters are going and the liberators are com- 
ing in." 

And this splendid spectacle is not only practicable and 
feasible, but is inevitable, if the public mind be educated 
along higher lines than those of wholesale homicide. This 
lofty conception is no impracticable dream; it merely 
pictures the state to which man must and will come, as 
surely as he rose from cannibalism to his present stage of 
development. It reveals the next step for enlightened 
humanity, and a step which might be taken to-day, if it 
were not for the reawakening of the savage in man, which 
is being industriously fostered by church, school, popular 
literature and the state, at the present intellectual crisis. 
To-day the youth of Europe and America are having their 
imagination focused upon an idealized warrior who repre- 
sented the cruel, savage and selfish side of man as has no 
other cliaracter in modern history. And it is the ideals and 
thought-images which color life and give bent to character. 
Professor Drummond observes that "The supreme factor of 
development is environment. A child does not grow out 
of a child by spontaneous unfolding; the process is fed from 
without." 

We do not see the plant assimilate the elements of air 
and earth. We cannot look into the laboratory of the rose 
and behold the reaching out of the plant to the sun and air 
for those subtle elements necessary in order that it may pro- 
duce that miracle of color and ])erfume which in time 
delights our senses. We know that in some mysterious 
way the sunshine, the rain and the earth give to the 
miracle-worker that which is essential to produce the rose. 
So, we do not see exactly how the thought-seeds thrown into 
the garden of the imagination, the ideal held before the 
retina of the mind, the harmony or discord which the child- 
brain encounters during the formative period, give color 
and expression to life; but we know that these subtle influ- 
ences are destiny-shaping in their effect. And as before 
observed, this is especially true in periods like the present 



192 persons, places auD H^eas^ 

when the public mind is tense, when the imagination is 
stimulated and receptive; when, in a word, the civilization 
reaches the edge of a new Canaan, and the question is put 
whither humanity shall move — forward, to encounter 
unknown danger on the road to progress, or back into the 
wilderness of the known to feed afresh upon the ideals and 
old-time thoughts, which, though they were an inspiration 
in an earlier age, can no longer satisfy or sustain the best 
in man. 

The slothful, the fearful, the worshipper of the past, and 
those who love ease and self-comfort, no less than those who 
are so low on the plane of development that they have more 
confidence in brute methods than in reason and the divine 
impulse are striving in a thousand ways to turn humanity 
backward; like the ten spies who brought an evil report of 
Canaan to the children of Israel, these voices seek to turn 
humanity backward by appealing to prejudice, superstition, 
fear, the love of ease and the savagery resident in the hu- 
man heart. They are seeking to outlaw daring science and 
investigation; to replace the spirit of tolerance,charity, intel- 
lectual hospitality and ethical religion with the savage dog- 
matic faith of darker days. They are fanning the spirit of 
hate between religious factions; they are cultivating the 
war spirit, and turning the contemplation of the young 
from the noble ideals of a Victor Hugo to the bloody tri- 
umphs of a Napoleon. They are endeavoring to raise 
authority above justice and to discourage man's faith in a 
nobler to-morrow. They sneer at the eiforts of philoso- 
phers and reformers to substitute justice for injustice. In 
a word, they are striving to turn civilization backward at 
the moment when strong and clear the order to march for- 
ward should be given. 

If we hearken to these voices of the night, we assist in 
the commission of a mistake of measureless proportions, a 
mistake which must necessarily result in clouding the face 
of civilization for generations to come by checking the 
rapid march of progress; if we remain, neutral, refusing to 
bear arms in the stupendous battle now in progress, we are 
recreant to the urgent duty which confronts us, and by so 
doing neglect the splendid opportunities given to us to be 
torch-bearers of progress in the most critical moment in the 
history of civilization. 

If prejudice, selfism and ancient thought triumph over 
knowledge, altruism and justice in the present crisis, 
humanity will have another long night before her, another 
forty years in the wilderness. 



Ube Huoust iPreseut 



193 



He who at this moment realizes that his duty and respon- 
sibility are commensurate with his opportunity will rise to 
the august demands of the hour, becoming a greater force 
than he dreams possible, if, realizing his own limitations 
he loses sight of the tremendous fact that the time and 
environment of the present give him a potential power not 
given his fathers. We cannot do better than ponder on 
these words of Hugo, when with prophet voice he spoke a 
living truth for each awakened soul to make his own: 

"The human caravan has reached a high plateau, and the 
horizon being vaster, art has more to do. To every widen- 
ing of the horizon an enlargement of conscience corres- 
ponds. We have not reached the goal— concord -con 
densed into felicity, civilization summed up in harmonv— 
that is far off." *^ 



Three Works by B. 0. FLOWER, with Critic al Press Opinion. ' 

Gerald MASSEY: Poet, Prophet and Mystic. 



A study of 

Boston, Mass. j 

[ 
Daily Advertiser. 

Daily Traveler. 



Boston Ideas. 



Cincinnati, O. 

Daily Commer- 
cial Gazette. 

Chicago, 111. 



Daily 
Inter-Ocean. 



NewYork.N.Y. 

Ne-M YorkWorld. 



the life and thought of England's Poet of the People. 

ILLUSTRATED BY LAURA LEE. 
Price, extra cloth, $1.00. 

Golden Opinions from Leading Critical Journals. 

A SCHOLARLY WORK REVEALING THE INNER LiFE OF THE POET. Mr. B. O. Flower's 

latest work is a scholarly discussion of the life and work of Massey, poet, prophet and 
mystic. One of the feature chapters is that in which the author traces the points of re- 
semblance between Massey and Whittier. There are frequent quotations from the poet, 
but they are none loo frequent, since they reveal to us the inner life of the man. — Daily 
Advertiser, Boston Mass. 

Finest presentation of the Poet's Character which has appeared in the 
NEW WORLD. A most appreciative and tender tribute to one of England's lesser but 
noble song writers. No such presentation of the poet's character and work has yet been 
seen on this side the water. — Daily Traveler, Boston. 

A VOLUME WHICH WILL FIND A HIGH NICHE AMONG THE ELECT. Mr B. O. Flower's 

appreciation of the beauty and strength of Gerald Massey's nature and work is so enthu- 
siastic yet so spiritually true-tempered that he is better qualified than almost any one to 
deal with the subject as he has in his latest book : " Gerald Massey: Poet, Prophet and 
Mystic." So true a soul as Mr. Massey's deserves just such direct and sympathetic 
treatment as that here given by Mr. Flower, and it is a delight, as well as inspiration and 
benefit, to contemplate the picture of his life as drawn by Mr. Flower from Mr. Massey's 
own words and writings, conducted and interspersed with comments, facts and explana- 
tions from Mr. Flower's pen. It is an uncommonly expressive delineation, and done 
with a fidelity of color which keenly tells in the impressions conveyed to the reader's 
mind. 

Mr. Massey has received appreciation from high sources for his masterly poetic power, 
but Mr. Flower's book aims chiefly at bringing forth before the public the man's charac- 
ter as a power among the modern reform elements which rank in the lists of the broadly 
fearless and true. Mr. Flower handles the subject admirably, and we thus gain the full 
force of the exquisite beauty, the invincible strength and the lofty truth of Mr. Massey's 
clear vision and straightforward expressiveness. This volume will find a high niche among 
the elect. It is handsomely and expensively printed. — Boston Ideas. 

A WORK AT ONCE BEAUTIFUL IN COMPOSITION AND FAULTLESS IN MECHANICAL EXE- 
CUTION. "Gerald Massey: Poet, Prophet and Mystic," is the title Mr. B. O. Flower 
gives to a beautiful discussion of the life work of " One of England's Poets of the People." 
The volume in its mechanical execution is a work of art. . . . The author illustrates 
the three phases of Massey's mental and moral nature, as poet, prophet and mystic. It 
is a charming book, written in a sympathetic spirit, in which the subject is appropriately 
called upon to reveal his own character by his poems. It contains several elegant illus- 
trations by Laura Lee. — Co»i»iercial Gazette, Cincinnati, O. 

A HANDSOME VOLUME DEALING WITH AN INTERESTING SUBJECT. A handsOme 

volume, both in print and illustrations, which presents briefly, but pointedly the life and 
work of Gerald Massey. Our author finds a striking resemblance between Massey and 
our own loved Quaker poet, Whittier. Both were tireless reformers, " passionately in 
love with the beauty in common life." Both hated injustice with all their powers of 
mind, with prophetic and intuitive insight as to coming events. They both " revealed 
beauties within and without the homes of the humble," and were fearless in denunciation 
of wrong doing. The work is handsomely illustrated, but the text alone makes it an 
interesting and even charming book. Mr. Flower makes free quotations from the gems 
of many of Massey's inspiring songs, and brings out admirably the leading traits of 
character that shaped his life and inspired his writing. — Daily Inter-Ocean, Chicago. 

Gerald Massey will be better known to the English-speaking people fifty years from 
now than he is to-day. His genius is only just beginning to be recognized, and Mr. B. 
O. Flower has done the world a service in his critical monograph, " Gerald Massey : Poet, 
Prophet and Mystic." It is a tribute from the heart to a true prophet of freedom, frater- 
nity and justice, ever loyal to the interest of the oppressed.— A^'fw York IVorld. 



The above are a few of the many appreciative criticisms which have greeted Mr. Flower's latest volume. This 
work is one that is needed at the present time, as it makes a powerful plea for justice, while it presents the story of 
Massey's life and the ideas which have dominated his brain. In mechanical execution this work which is printed 
in black and red, on heavy antique paper, illustrated with a few choice pictures, drawn by Miss Laura Lee, the 
talented Boston artist, is one of the finest examples of the modern revival of fine book-making. It is bound in 
ornamental cloth, stamped in gold, and is a model of beauty as well as a volume of excellence. 

It makes a charming presentation volume. 

ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY, Copley Square, Boston. 



The New Time: 



New York. 



St. Louis, Mo. 



C In- is till 11 
Evangelist. 



A Plea for the Union of the Moral Forces 
for Practical Progress. 

Extra cloth, $1.00 ; paper, 50 cents. 

A worthy companion to "Civilization's Inferno." Constructive in character and abounding 
in helpful suggestions. 
Current opinion of leading American journals. 

It is a fervent plea for the union and practical co-operation of all those who are 
interested in the welfare of humanity, and who believe that it is their duty to do their 
utmost toward alleviating the sufferings of their less fortunate fellow mortals. Mr. Flower 
is a firm believer in the ultimate triumph of the spirit of fraternity and justice, and in this 
little book he suggests how this spirit may be fostered throughout the United States. 
There are many loving souls, he claims, in every city, town and village, who would fain 
spend most of their lives in aiding their fellows, and he maintains that a wondrous 
amount of good would be the result if only these scattered children of light could be 
properly organized. Undoubtedly he is right, and it would not surprise us if this idea 
took root. We may not all possess Mr. Flower's enthusiasm, but we must all admire the 
eloquence with which he pictures the " new time " for which he yearns, the time when all 
men will be brothers and justice will rule the earth. — New 3 'ork Herald. 

The inspiration of a new social order seems to have suddenly assumed the proportions 
of a contagion. Prophets are springing up all over the land, aud new books from every 
quarter of the globe. The real import of God's love for tlie world seems to be davming 
upon the mind of thinkers for the first time in social history, and reformers are just 
beginning to catch the inspiration of the Christ-life. These books are by no means 
accordant as yet, but they are sufficiently harmonious in design to impress the student 
with the fact that the kingdom of heaven is about to begin on earth. Almost all modern 
writers on social conditions are so imbued with the altruistic spirit that altruism seems to 
be the "Elias" of the new era. 

So prominent indeed is this spirit in the above work that one almost feels that its 
author is the John the Baptist of the time about which he prophesies, and that he should 
at once demand baptism at his hands — that is, a baptism of his spirit.. We cannot have 
too many such books as this at this time. It was not written for the sake of the book nor 
its author, but of humanity. It is a plain yet earnest and vigorous presentation of some 
of our social conditions, with suggestions, not a few of which are entirely practical and 
full of promise. It has little of the visionary and speculative in it and proposes imme. 
diate action upon practical grounds for the purpose of the earliest possible relief and 
solution of our troubles. — Christian Evangelist, St. Louis, Mo. 

It has a pertinence and value for all who have read and thought about the social prob- 
lems of our day; and the information which the author puts into such a moderate com- 
pass will also serve admirably to interest many in social literature who have been 
deterred by rumor from touching these "fantastic theories.'' "It is facts, facts, facts, 
which 'The New Time' marshals before the reader, — facts of the everyday, common- 
place, humdrum life about us." The reader will find in this book much food for solid, 
hard thinking. Here are put into a small compass a body of concrete remedial measures 
for an immediate and practical organization of social reform agencies. It shows how 
existing evils can be modified, and gives the trend of contemporary, social thought and 
its evolutionary process toward its ultimate goal of the highest social good. — Boston Home 
yournaly Boston, Mass. 

Like whatever Mr. Flower writes, the book has to do with a /r-arf/Va/, immediate 
means, of helping humanity in the throes of its upward struggle. Humanity as a mass, of 
course contains the leavening lump of spirituality which will ultimately express itself as a 
matter of course in the very reforms we so much desire. Equally of course do the con- 
sciously-spiritual workers assist in this process — this forms one of the pleasures as well 
as duties of the enlightened state. 

In such a cause we know of no one who does more valiant work than Mr. Flowet 
Convinced of its " righteousness," he will pursue it to its ultimate personally, and arouse 
in hosts of others both desire and determination to do likewise. Such work is of inesti- 
mable value — and in this connection everyone should realize that every person is helping 
his fellow if he but live on the highest plane of which he is conscious, also striving con- 
stantly to get still higher by helping to raise others. — Boston Ideas, Boston, Mass. 

Mr. Flower takes his stand on the side of human progress. In the book " The New 
Time," he enters a vigorous, earnest and touching plea for the union of warring sects in the 
great cause of the amelioration of human misery, whether it arises from poverty or guilt. 

Without being, in any respect, a sermon, Mr. Flower's work has all the force and con- 
vincing power of the pulpit. Indeed it has more, for the pulpit i; often enough the 
vehicle of the denunciation of opposing sects — a fact which occasionally mars it useful- 
ness in the eyes of every reflecting man. Mr. Flower's book touches briefly on the 
causes of much of human suffering and crime, and proceeds to show how a real and per- 
manent union of Christian workers of all denominations can be achieved and what noble 
results will spring from such a \xn\on.- -Daily Item, Philadelphia, Pa. 

ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY, Copley Square, Boston. 



Boston, riass. 



Boston Home 
Journal. 



Boston Ideas. 



Philadelphia. 

Daily Item. 



Civilization's Inferno; Or, Studies in the Social Cellar. 

Price, cloth, $i.oo; paper, 50 cents. 

This work contains vivid pen pictures of the social cellar as Mr. Flower found it, and is one of the most fear- 
less and able presentations of the condition of society's exiles which has ever been made. 

It carries the reader into the social cellar where uninvited poverty abounds, and from there into the sub-cellar, 
or the v.'orld of the criminal poor. 

It is rich in suggestive hints, and should be in the hands of every thoughtful man and woman in America. 

Absorbingly interesting and at times thrilling, no one can read its pages without being made better for the pe- 



rusal. 

CRITICAL 

Boston, Mass. 

Herald. 



Christian Leade 



Beacon. 



Chicago, III. 

Tif?tes. 



Louisville, Ky. 

Couric'r-Joitriiai. 

Atlanta, Ga. 

Constitution. 

Detroit, Mich. 

Free Press. 



Princeton Uni= 
versity. 

Nassau Literary 
Magazine. 



PINION FROM REPRESENT.ATIVE AMERICAN JOURNALS. 

It is a truthful and graphic delineation of the condition of the people in the social im- 
dertow. Mr. Flower has a keen and profound sympathy with the difficulties that the poor 
are laboring under, and he describes what he has seen with his own eyes in terms that 
chill one's blood. He does not hesitate to call things by their right names, and points out 
the magnitude of the peril, showing that no palliative measures will satisfy the people. 

— Daily Herald, Boston. 

A book which should be read and studied by all. Mr. Flower's high enthusiasm, the 
artistic impulse which has guided his pen, together with his intimate knowledge gained 
by personal investigation of the matter, make his book most admirable. — Boston Times. 

A volume of remarkable interest and power, and merits the careful attention of all 
students of social problems. — Boston Daily Traveler. 

He literally uncaps the pit, the hell on earth ; and if there are "the pleasures of sin 
for a season," it will be seen that the season is not a long one. The author depicts the 
scenes he has witnessed, and has the moral purpose — the passion for a better state — 
which, enlivening his pages, makes the book as wholesome as it is inciting to practical 
endeavor. — Christian Leader, Boston. 

Society, as it is now constituted, is nothing less than a sleeping volcano. Who dares 
to say how soon the upheaval will come, or whether it can be evaded by the adoption of 
prompt measures of relief? Certainly the condition of the lower social strata calls for 
immediate action on the part of those whose safety is at stake. Mr. Flower has accom- 
plished a great work, in setting forth the exact truth of the matter, without any effort at 
palliation. It will be well indeed for the prosperous classes of the community if they are 
warned in time. — Boston Beacon. 

It is not only the record made of discoveries during a period of systematic slum- 
ming, but it is also a philosophical view of the dangers of the conditions which he dis- 
cusses. — Chicago Times. 

The work is a masterly presentation of social conditions around us. These make a 
vast problem, and it is by such earnest thinkers as Mr. Flower that they will be solved. 

— Chicago Herald. 

A thoughtful work by a thoughtful man, and should turn the minds of many who are 
now ignorant or careless to the condition of the countless thousands who live in the " so- 
cial cellar." No one can read the book without feeling that the author's diagnosis of the 
case is true and gives each one his own personal responsibility. — Courier-Journal, Lou- 
isville, Ky. 

What General Booth has done for London, and Mr. Jacob Riis for New York, Mr. 
Flower has done for cultured Boston. He is a professional man of letters, and tells his 
stoty with the skill and knack of his craft. — Daily Constitution, Atlanta, Ga. 

A powerfully written book, presenting facts which ought to move the most sluggish 
soul to resolve and action. Its whole lesson, sad as it is, is one that needs to be learned; 
and we will not detract from its completeness by presenting it in fragments ; but we de- 
sire to call special attention to the author's exposition of the facts, concerning which there 
has been so much scepticism, that the rich are growing richer and the poor poorer. If 
there is any lingering belief or hope in the mind of anybody that his statement is a mere 
partisan bugaboo, as it has sometimes been styled, Mr. Flower's book will settle the mat- 
ter. — Daily Free Press, Detroit, Mich. 

In this book the great social problem of the day is laid before the reader in all its im- 
portance, its increasing dangers are pointed out, and practical remedies suggested in a way 
that is as interesting as thoughtful. We are glad to see the fashionable extravagances 
and vices of the class that assumes for itself the title of "society" treated with the con- 
demnation they deserve. It is a work that has long been needed, and we are sure it will 
go far toward the end it looks forward to so hopefully. — Nassau Literary Magazint, 
published by senior class of Princeto7i University, Princeton, N. J.. 



ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY, 



COPLEY SQUARE, BOSTON. 



The Century of Sir Thomas More, 



B. O. FLOWER, 




Author of "Persons, Places and Ideas," "Gerald Massey," 
"The New Time," "Civilization's Inferno," etc. 



Illustrated with full-page drawing of Sir Thomas More, and 
smaller portraits of numerous eminent personages of the first 
century of modern times, including Michael Angelo, Raphael, 
Da Vinci, Correggio, Titian, Erasmus, Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, 
Knox, Melanchthon, Columbus and Machiavelli. 



liable of Contents, 

I. The New Learning North of the Alps. 

II. The Reformation and Some of Its Leaders. 

III. A General Survey of the Italy of the Renaissance. 

IV. Some Fatal Figures of the Italian Renaissance. 
V. Some Bright Lights of the Italian Renaissance. 

VI. The Spanish Peninsula of This Period. 

VII. The France of This Age. 

VIII. The England of Sir Thomas More. 

IX. The Life of Sir Thomas More. 

X. Utopia Considered. Part I. 

XL Utopia Considered. Part II. 

XII. The Lives of Seneca and More Compared. 

XIII. A General Survey of the First Century of Modern Time« 



Published only in Cloth. Gilt side and back dies. 

Price, $i.^o. 

THE ARENA PUBLISHING COMPANY, 
BOSTON, MASS. 



f 



r 



